BitterCold
by Let-Everything-Go
Summary: Frostbitten and alone, Elsa is left to be a prisoner, forced to watch her sister be free and be loved by their parents. It's painful. But when Elsa develops a plan to win her freedom and her revenge, she sets it in motion. She will stop at nothing to avenge all the lost years.
1. Prologue

"_That bitch!" _I scream, all alone, only the sound of icicles crashing somewhere outside from the vibrations. I'm boiling over, the heat rising until my face blushes beet red, although my hands are raging snow storms. "_Fuck her! Fuck them all!"_ I feel the lack of air in my throat from yelling so much - there's too much fucking frustration inside, but I lack the strength the get it out.

My knees hit the floor and I let myself fall, caught up in the in's and out's of breathing. There's jagged icicle pieces that rise up between my fingers as I slam them down on the cold floor. _Oh shit, they probably heard me downstairs. Great,_ I speak internally, though murmuring the tired words out loud at the same time. My eyes flare to the door as I hear footsteps in the hall. Growing louder, each step makes my teeth grind even harder.

Soon there is a knock on the door, and the bitch's muffled voice says, "Everything alright in there, Elsa?" Ugh, her fucking annoying... well, everything! Her being causes my skin to crawl.

"As long as you're not in here, then goddamn right!" is what I wanted to yell at her, but instead I take a breath, roll my eyes and then stomp over to the door and pull it open. She jerks forward when I do so, - I'm assuming she was about to turn the lock - which I had frozen in place so it wouldn't have done anything - but then straightens herself out. The light burns my eyes from the invading light from the hallway. "God fuck-" I cuss, rubbing my eye with one hand and letting go of the doorknob to block the fiery light with the other. I drop my hands once it settles down and I glare at her, irritated.

"A-a-are you okay?" the stuttering idiot speaks to me, too close for comfort, and I instinctively recede a little ways back into the darkness once I notice this.

"Yes I'm fine, just busy." I do my best to smile, but the sarcasm leaks through. I don't really care.

"Well, okay. I just wanted to see if you'd want to go do something, you know, w-with me." I would have almost said yes, but two things changed my mind: 1. She stutters every time I see her, like just then; and 2. I. Fucking. Hate. Her.

I try not to sound irritated while I sarcastically say, "Eh, probably not. Later, bye," and slam the door in her face. I guess she also might be stuttering because every time I see her, it's in front of my door which blows the icy air through the cracks. Huh, I don't really care either way. She deserves to freeze.

"Ughhh" I _hmph_ as I lean my back against the door and brush my hair out of my face. My eyes roll as I hear the lack of Anna's boots walking away, and more of her just sobbing quietly. What the hell is she crying about? She has the rest of the palace to herself, and I'm stuck in a dark, frozen room for until I become queen.

The door shakes against me with another couple of knocks from the small handed girl on the other side. I roll my eyes and open it again. "What do you want?" I shout irritatedly at her, taking in the redness around her nose and eyes, that are staring off into space at the ground. But I'm feeling patient all of a sudden so I give her a minute to explain her interruption.

"I just wanted a hug... if that's okay..," she says in a murmur. I hesitate but hug her anyways, then sort of push her off me awkwardly within a couple seconds. She smiles and then walks away, her winter boots clunking across the floor.

Now I know what you're thinking, that my rage is just because of teenage hormones, and being 15 and she being 12, yeah I guess that would have been the case. Would have*.

But being trapped in my room, concealing who I am while she gets to live her life, with our parents that clearly love her more to set her free, that's why I hate her. I hate that she is the reason I'm stuck here, ever since I accidentally hurt her when we were little. And they knew she'd be fine, but they blame me for not knowing, for not being perfect. Well I'm fucking sorry, mom and dad! Sorry for being only eight years old - still confused over why the leaves change in the fall and how I'm going to rule a kingdom some day - and hurting my fucking perfect sister while playing with her with my complex and ever growing ice powers.

Of course I'm not perfect, yet I have to be a good girl to please them.

But why should I have to please them? I'm my own person, aren't I? Don't I deserve to be free?

_Do I? _


	2. Once Upon A Time

Years and years and years, I'm trapped, alone, in the dark. There was so much I wanted in life...

I wanted to be with my sister, once a upon a time, now I can barely stand to think about her.

I wanted to run outside in the grass, and not leave a trail of ice with every step I took.

I loved running and jumping off the docks of the fjord behind the castle in the summer.

I loved watermelon, just a little sunkissed, and stuffing my face with it and then chasing Anna around the garden with my monster face.

But now all that's there is a _real_ monster, with a _real_ danger. I used to be happy, but now that's just a distant child's dream, shut out by fears and reality. The reality that makes me the bad guy. The bad _girl._

Anna stares at her food, poking it with her fork. I watch her slouch and then put her hand up to support her head, turning herself away from me. I'm lost in that hair. It's so perfect.

I realign my poster and continue shoving the bland food on my plate into my mouth. My father next to me - always at the head of the table - leans over and whispers "Is your sister okay?" She shifts a tiny bit with the sound of the whispers. I can feel the rage to scream and to cry. I feel sorry for her.

But I swallow the sickening sympathy and splash the serious look on my face as I whisper back, "I don't really know." But of course I know she's upset with me because she figures I hate her, which of course I do, but she doesn't know why. Or why she keeps trying.

"Do you know if she's alright?"

_I know she wants to die, which I'm sure she deserves the immense pain. _"I don't, but I guess she isn't." I can't handle this pressure anymore, it's too... awkward. I get up and bring my plate to the kitchen. Anna's stare burns into my back, frost decorates the edge of my plate.

Once I reach the kitchen, I am safe. The snow on my plate recedes back to my hands. It tickles. It takes me a minute but the sound of heavy panting, I figure out, is from me. I put the plate down on the counter, realizing I barely ate a bite of food the entire dinner. I just want to stay in here - to avoid their gazes, their judgement.

"Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel," I murmur and then take a huge breath in and let it out as I walk back to the dining hall. My face frozen with mystery, my inside frozen with fear. I glare at Anna's perfect hair as I walk by and then look straight forward until I reach my seat. Her perfect fucking hair with her perfect face and perfect body and perfect conscience. Fucking perfect.

I sit up straight in my chair and look across to my mother. When she looks up from her food, I smile at her. Her brown hair feels foreign to me. It's a strange gene in her that I've fascinated over, since everyone else in the immediate family has light colored hair. But I guess she gets that from her family. "Hun, you still had a lot on your plate. Not hungry?" She asks, sort of hushed. Anna and our father are talking about something the tutor said today. I'm trying not to roll my eyes rudely.

"Yeah, haven't been hungry lately," I say, feeling an odd sense of ease.

_Don't let your guard down! _I remind myself. That's not something my father told me, either.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"As fine as I've ever been, I assume." I'm looking for anyway to excuse myself from this situation. Anna's jabbering on and on and even though I'm not listening, her voice annoys me. Her everything annoys me. _Focus on Mother. _

"Good," - she pauses a moment, searching for more words - "I'm glad. How have your classes been?"

_Ah ha! _"Fine, he has been teaching me poetry and art concepts," - _in for the kill - _"Actually, I just remembered that he gave me a chapter to read of poetry due tomorrow, may I please be excused?"

Of course I am excused for my studies, and I can finally breathe again.

The growls from my stomach echo around my room, but I'm too flustered to notice. Fucking bitch. She has all the attention, no matter what. I've had to fucking hide who I am and deal with never being a normal person, but she still gets everything she wants. All the love and attention and the freedom she wants. Honestly, fuck her!

I slam my fists against the cold, pale wall and ice swallows the room. The door handle freezes and the windows open, blowing in cold air, with the moon casting the only shreds of light in the room. The room transforms into a cocoon of frost, absorbing the moonlight and spreading it through itself. Icicles dance across the frozen tundra of which my chambers has become and form enchanting art and detail in the ice. All the furniture become varies tints of blues and whites. The floor freezes with an even layer of ice and the flurries of magick are zooming around the room.

The anger inside me is turning into satisfaction. It's my own beautiful palace, with whom which I will never share. For once in my life, I have made something beautiful.


	3. Just a Taste

"Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show. Got that?" My father's soothing voice says to me, holding onto my hand, not breaking eye contact. Even though our voices are hushed due to the crowd of people downstairs, his voice vibrates loudly to me.

"Yes, father," I reply with a shaky, youthful voice, also holding back my tears.

"Darling, you'll be fine, you have the gloves, just keep them on." Though my mothers gloves are a little big on me, and I have to keep pulling them up every time my hands fall to my sides. I ball up my hands to hold onto them and hold up my head with grace. My father smiles and kisses my forehead. He straightens himself out and escorts me to the hall.

_I've lived 16 years on this earth and have made it this far,_ I say to myself to reassure that tonight will be okay.

We survive the trip down the stairs and across the tall corridor to the giant ballroom doors. I swallow my fear and prepare myself to face the crowd of eyes. It's brighter than I had anticipated. The lights reflect off the floor with a smooth shine. The sea of witnesses watches our entry.

What confuses me is that my contact with the outside world accelerates on my birthday - tonight - and yet I'm barely even a thought the rest of the year. My parents clearly hate having me, bothering them, making everything harder for them, yet they throw me these parties.

My bitchy sister stands beside the throne on the other end of the room. It's a short distance to walk from the entrance to the end, but a long swim across an ocean, and I'm drowning.

Their eyes glare at me. My forehead gets hotter and hotter, my palms get colder and colder. I feel the gloves encasing my hands and relax in my safety net. When we reach the steps to the throne's little perch, I have to remind myself how to walk upstairs again. _Left foot up, right foot up, left foot up._

Anna's smile overlooks the crowd, her eyes just a little too bright for my comfort. I glare at her a moment before I take my place on the other side of the throne and smile at the crowd. It feels good to soak in the moment with my back turned to the room. My sister and my father both look at me, oddly.

Every year when I have this birthday party, my father always leads me down the path to the throne then he takes his kingly seat and I do my best not to expose myself while I mingle with the guests. However my father says to me, "Take your seat, _my queen_," and winks.

_Oh I fucking like this_. I do as I am told and grin at the satisfactory feeling of the cushy, golden chair. I'm very comfortable. It's so enticing, so incredibly enticing. I'm swallowed in the glory of being queen.

"You will be queen some day soon, and you need to be used to this authority. How is it?" My father says beside me, loud enough for the several people in front to hear. There's a murmur that's washed over the crowd, which I am too excited to notice.

"Wonderful, father." I glance up at Anna just before I say this, knowing deep inside her, she wants me gone. Is that envy in her eyes? A little twinge crosses her face as our eyes meet. I stare out to the ballroom floor. I love the view from up here.

The night continues as I spend a majority of the time on the - _my _\- throne. Although, I do leave it to greet my guests. I have never smiled so much in my life. This is such an amazing feeling, I wouldn't give it up for anything.

I barely see Anna in the crowd, probably couldn't handle me getting the attention I deserve. The bakery has created a beautiful birthday cake for me with my absolutely favorite flavor _\- chocolate!_ \- along with several other pastries and desserts for the guests. Almost everyone has some kind of food in their hands, or heading off to the table for seconds.

My parents have been standing off in the corner, by the throne, talking and looking satisfied. I'm at ease knowing everything has gone well so far. It's getting close to midnight and I know I should go thank them for giving me this. I make my way through the people and dodging servants plates that swing around so quickly when they turn. It startles me. I blow my hair out of my face and keep going. I've been by the dessert tray for a portion of the time.

"...gonna tell her?" I hear my mother whisper to my father. I come to a halt as these words project into my ears. The window curtains and commoners act as my concealment.

"Well should we?" the king's voice anxiously murmurs back.

"I don't know, but if her powers are growing..." the queen trails off.

"Maybe they'll get bett-"

"You heard what the trolls said!" she snaps at him, "She can't be queen, what if it goes to her head? What if she freezes the kingdom?"

"I know," even I could hear the disappointment in his voice, which isn't a very easy trait to find, "What are we to do?"

"Well..," she ponders this a moment, "Anna could take her place, and..," the room gets quiet. Silent. There is only my heart beat. Muffled voices from the crowd fade away. I feel faint. _NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!_

_She __**CAN'T **_be queen, _she can't!_ What are they gonna do to me?! Why can't I rule!? It's my birthright! My fucking birthright!

I run over to my parents to stop their conversation. Panic blushes on their face for a moment then it fades away as quickly as it came. It flares up in me too but I suppress it and smear seriousness on my expression.

"Evening, darling. Having a nice night?" my mother hums, sounding like she desperately wants to hide something.

"Yes, it's been lovely," I sigh.

"Splendid, I'm glad everything is to your liking," my father adds.

"I guess I'll have to be ready for my coronation then." I smirk as they hesitate a moment to look at each other. Their fake smiles fall off.

"Yes, well it's getting late," my father begins, trying to diverge the subject, "I'll alert the guards to escort all the guests out." He walks away towards the tall, beefy men by the doors.

Fury rises to the top my head, a trickle of ice slithers down from me amongst the legs of the guests, feeding itself with the space between it and my father. My mother, apparently sees this and grabs my arm, smiles a little too brightly. The magical ice flurries retract into my sleeve and crawls back into my hand..

"Oh love, will you find your sister and then head upstairs, please? Thank you, dear." She pats my arm and I merge into the crowd.

I'm in no mood to deal with that piece of shit sister who is going to steal my throne. But I must…


	4. Long Live Thee pt 1

Anna is by the dessert table when I find her eating a strawberry tart. She has some white cream on her upper lip when she notices me. "Oh hey Elsa, 'haven't gotten the chance to say Happy 15th! How'd the throne feel? Did you like it?" Yap yap yap. I only hear half of it.

"Yeah, Mom said to come get you and get ready for bed upstairs," I break her off. She pauses a moment, then complies with the demand. The rest of the tart is practically swallowed whole and absorbed by her stomach acids. Then she prances off up the grand spiral staircase. I can't help but roll my eyes at her giddy demeanor.

I meet some guests out in the courtyard. Each guest nods and says something along the lines of "Happy Birthday, your highness," or "Have a pleasant evening, Princess." I smile and thank them and nod and bow and maintain grace and get dizzy until everyone is gone. The rage from 10 minutes ago is mixing with my irritation and it's showing in my voice.

I wave to some left over stragglers with one hand, and my shoes and dress skirt and organs in the other while I climb the thousand stairs. I hold together long enough to make it to my bed and shut the door behind me. The sheets under me feel so cool on my back, and wet with my tears. They slowly freeze and form heavy drops of ice on the bedding. With my shoes kicked off and my corset unbuttoned, I slide to the floor and slap my palm on the cold surface. A sheet of ice forms a snowflake shape centering my hand. Another drop of salt water hits the floor and similarly repeats the same thing.

I'm curled up inside myself. I let my head hang over my knees and fall to the side. Each drop of anger, of sadness, of pain, of loneliness, of me hugs the ground in snowflake form. Once I notice this, I bend over and squeeze the last dew drop out of me, again watching it repeat it's brethren. Pain boils over into anger. _That fucking bitch! _

_No! _My tears fling across the room.

_No! No! No! _The cold eats up the floor when my fists pound it.

_This isn't happening! No! _Snowflakes rise up and tornado around me, enveloping me - concealing me. I'm swallowed and dispersed. I'm nothing anymore. I am snow.

_I am the snow! _I spend hours repeating this, realizing this, defeating this - pounding it to death. Over and over. The ice has eaten me up and became me. _Me..._

_As a child, my parents idolized me. They would have given me anything. I wasn't an evil child. Snow wasn't the only thing that gave me life. I was 3 years old when Anna came into the picture. I loved her with every ounce of my being. She was my best friend. One summer morning, I woke her up earlier than the birds would and we snuck outside. There was this special tree that was out of sight from the master bedroom window; distance kept it hidden. _

_There was a family of goldfinches that nested near the top of the tree. If we got up early enough, we could see them sleeping. So peaceful. So adorable. We climb to the top, getting little bangs or tears in our night gowns on the way. Anna giggled at the sight, "Those two little ones back there remind me of us!" She pointed her tiny finger towards two small baby birds that were snuggling in the corner of the nest. One was slightly bigger than the other. Anna whispered to me that I was the biggest one and she was the little one. It made me laugh to hear the comparison, and the smallest finch's eyes shot open at the sound. I turned to my sister and put my finger against my lips and _shhhhhushed_, then we climbed back down the tree. _

_A mommy duck lead her waddling ducklings down to the pond right passed us. The little ones were quacking and making little squeaky sounds. They made it to the water as Anna and I reached the tree next to it. The runt of the flock wabbled a little funny. It was slower than the rest of them. It's mama crosses back to it and nudges it's little butt along until it gets to it's brothers and sisters in the water. I watched and secretly compared this to myself. The mama duck is my parents, I am the little duckling..._

The morning sun opens my tired eyes. My forehead feels strained after furrowing my brows all night. I grimace at the light. It reflects off the ice below me and directly into my pupils. Everything is white. The walls are white. The floor is blueish-white. My insides are painful.

I'm on the floor. I slept on the ice. Everything is frosted over and I'm in the center of a circle of icy snow. I'm a little frosted myself, though I'm phased by the coldness. The mass of a ship in port blocks a little of the light when I stand up - it casts a shadow on the floor that I absentmindedly attempt to use as my only path to the window. Some men are carrying luggage onto the ship. One is standing at the end of the dock talking to my father. I roll my eyes at the sight - _if I roll them any faster, they'd probably melt from friction heat._

Somehow, the wind has unhinged the window and opened it. Bits and pieces of their conversation ride the current into my room as it echos up the side of the castle. They're discussing the weather for the trip. The man says it should be decent for the whole way to Corona. They should make it in time for the wedding.

I glare at mother when she comes into view, telling her husband that she's so excited to see her sister again and thrilled to see her niece after she went missing and went on and on and on and on. Their voices annoy me.

Darkness spills into the cracks in the ice and grows up the walls. I release my demons out into the world once I open the seal between sanity and the hallway. The cold air blends with the heat and creates a fog. My breath looks like smoke.

I make my way downstairs. I don't think about anything I'm doing until the king and queen come inside to say their goodbyes. Maintain a strong poker face, I hug them and promise I'll be okay and take care of the little bitc- Anna. My mother smiles and embraces me. It isn't loving. It's cold. Everywhere on my body that she is touching leaves a freezing burn. The only cold that ever bothered me. This repeats with my father, except he doesn't try to hide his contempt towards me or my attitude or my powers or my being or whatever the hell he despises of me. Whatever I've done, he's disappointed in it, and I feel it in that hug.

He leans back slightly before pulling away and whispers, "You'll be fine, Elsa," in my ear. I nod and every muscle in my body freezes besides my eyes. I try to find a way to turn them off. Turn off my ears. Have everything be open, but off. There but not. Let me concave into myself. Please.

My little sister skips into the room, smiling. I look her up and down before saying, "Well good luck," and run back to my cave. There's a silence for the long time I'm running and I fill it with heavy breathing to keep myself sane. I'd stab it with a kitchen knife if it was an actual physical object. It's harder to drown yourself in silence.

They're small, light, voices travel up the stairs to me and the fuzzy pieces I hear are too generic for my interest level.

"Good luck in Corona!" That pierced my ears even from where I was sitting in the hall.

"Thank... dear, keep... eye on Elsa if you see her." There's a pause when my mother remembers that there is no way in hell Anna will ever see me.

"We're off then," my father says. I don't even have to try to roll my eyes. I can't stand the thought of any of them. None. Nope. Never ever. Ever.

My chest aches with the quick thought of them getting any closer to me than they are now. Those stairs are pure marble with carpet, and the walls are solid oak painted lightly. It's hard to breathe even with that distance between us. I retreat to my bed and quietly shut the door. That little duckling is still me. Even though I'm not the runt, somehow I'm still the little forgotten duckling, waddling my way into the world - blind, disadvantaged.

It's now I realized the sky is grey. I glance at the boat and it gets a little darker. I wonder if it's because of me but I wave it off as coincidence. The king and queen walk out with grace onto the ship. The captain bows and gestures them to the deck. They're off in a moment, and I'm curled up on the cushy window seat, still cold from this morning. I almost don't notice that my sister is outside my door. The crack I left open shines a light on the floor that turns into shadow when she stands there.

"Elsa? Can I come in?" she murmurs loud enough for me to hear, faintly. I groan to myself, make sure the ice is melted enough, and grant her permission. There's a dim light source from the candle on the other side of the room. She stumbles a moment closing the door behind her. I wrap my arms around my legs and dig my nails into my legs.

"What do you want?" I don't dare look at her. I keep my eyes glued to the ship on the water. It bobs as the sea twists and turns and swirls and crashes. The boat looks like a little dot from here.

"I just thought... you know... maybe you'd want some hot chocolate? I could bring it up if you'd like." Her voice annoys me. I sigh and the little dot is covered by frost.

"I'm okay," I reply - my voice cracks.

"Well... okay. Do you want me to stay here with you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I pull my eyes away from the window and stare straight at her. "Positive."

She's taken aback by my eyes. By the look I'm giving her. She folds her hands in front of her and says, "...Okay," then begins to walk away.

I return to the fjord. However she stops in the doorway, hand on the inner doorknob. I hold my breath. "Elsa?"

I was almost rid of her. "Yes?"

She's hesitant, as if not sure what to follow up. "I-I'm... I'm sorry."

My eyebrow raises, but I still don't look at her. "For what?"

"For upsetting you, I guess. I don't know what I did, but I know you've changed and now you barely talk to me. And the only thing I want to know is why, but I also know you're too stubborn to tell me," - she giggles at her remark, I assume which meant to be lighthearted, but it only infuriates me. She pauses, "...So what did I do?"

The neat, carefully placed pieces of me are teetering. They're cracking and falling and shaking and crashing. Everything inside me is loud screams and cursings and crying. The room is dead silent. Painfully silent. The blood behind my ears is rushing and swirling like the greatest snow storms. I think my nails drew blood on my legs.

"What did I do?" she repeats, anger rising in her voice. Wait no, desperation, definitely.

"Nothing," I sigh, finally. It takes all of my efforts to breath it out again.

She knows I'm lying. "I know it's something, can't you at least spare me the curiosity?"

"I said nothing, Anna. Please leave." My teeth crack from the grinding.

"I know that's not true!"

"LEAVE! L-E-A-V-E, Anna! Get the fuck out of my room! I'm done talking about this!" All that is left in the room is the faint echo of my voice. The silence that follows stings my ears.

I turn away from her and she's in tears. What a bitch. No muscle in my body dares to move an inch. My chest hurts.

She sighs, or breathes deeply, or something. The sound is audible and painful. Her footsteps grow further away, so do her sobs. The door slams and boots hit the ground as the little bitch runs to her room. The other door slams even harder.

_Stupid bitch, she doesn't deserve me. _

_She doesn't understand me. _

_Or my powers. _

_She'll never see it. _

_Not even the throne's view. She'll never fucking see it! _

_They will never choose her over me! _

Although my blood is burning, I'm colder than ice. It all happens so quickly. Ice rockets from my hands anywhere I point them. Breaks the window, shatters my vanity mirror. Everything is ice and snow. I am ice and snow. It's increasingly difficult to see the other side of the room. Ice seams the door shut. The walls frost over. There's crashing and banging, a symphony of anger and pain and destruction. I pound the floor and strike the wall and rip my dress and throw glass around the room. I bath in the cold and wash in the blood on my hands. I'm the little duckling. Only this time, no one is here to help me.

And my mother ducklings abandoned me when I needed them the most. The anger builds up inside me, turning into snow. If they want to fuck me over, I'll beat them to it. One last blast launches from the depths of my soul. The skies above grow darker, the waves topple over themselves, and the small ship that is far out to sea is swallowed. Their frozen doom is sealed forever, and my anger rushes away, like the waves.


	5. Long Live Thee pt 2

I emerge from my quarters at dusk after changing into my dining gown. The end of my loose braid brushes my back. When I reach the dining hall, I hide myself in the tickle it leaves. Anna is sitting silently in mother's seat. The _queen's_ seat. Her eyes and nose look faintly pink. She's been crying all day. I take my seat in the king's end chair.

My little sister looks up at my regal expression, then swallows, pushes her hair behind her ears and clears her throat, "*Uhem* uh, good evening, Elsa." She tries to look at me but I am above her, therefore she keeps her eyes in her lap. The chef comes out of the kitchen, along with the sous chef, to carry over our dinner. I've only glanced down at Anna for a moment and said evening. The plate comes down in front of me. My younger sister pushes her food around and sighs occasionally. Her hands are so delicate, and not leaving snow on the end of her fork. Her eyelashes bat and the wind blows me out of my seat. The shine in her hair is almost blinding. I;m forever lost in the look of this perfect, sweet girl. Thinking about her makes my stomach churn, looking at her will always be my favorite sport.

I finish my lamb and sweet potato before her, then I pick at my salad, sogged with the sauce from the lamb. It takes me a moment to notice that my favorite maid/nanny, Irene, was sitting at my right flank, saying something amusing enough to make Anna laugh.

Irene is my favorite because whenever I was sad or missed my parents when they were gone, she always came to me and hugged me and took me to play a game or go to the Arendelle Library. She always gave me the attention I needed. Anna bursts out so much she starts crying. I giggle too, but shove it away.

"Sweetheart, how was your birthday party? I haven't seen you since you were getting ready for it," Irene asks, pulling her rusty, red hair into a ponytail.

"Splendid. I had a great time," I reply, keeping a serious manner. The mid-aged woman says she's glad and it makes me smile to hear her caring yet sarcastic tone. Her british accent used to amaze me when I was young. She's never been a serious, uptight woman, like all the other maids and nannies and tutors. She always joked and always deeply cared about us, especially me. It feels really nice to not be the screw up child to, at least, _somebody_.

The night is over soon and I sleep peacefully. I dream of my reign and dance with demons. They're are no longer any nightmares of fear and unworthiness. There is only the time at night where my mind wanders freely into the realm of ease. And not a soul can know what I spend my time thinking about, what consumes hours of my days and years of my life. It's going to my grave.

A week after my parents' departure, there was a letter at the door that came with the scrawny-looking young man. It read of a shipwreck which caused the death of 5 out of 9 aboard, including the king and queen. I snickered at my success and tip toed back up the stairs from my hiding place.

My first step in the room crackled with ice underneath my feet. I can't stop smiling. I slip out of my nightgown and into a casual, light blue dress, with a collar, then pin up my hair in a bun. By the time I come downstairs, Irene has already heard the news, and so has every other servant. Sorrow fills the room, and I furrow my eyebrows up and tilt my head to look perplexed. Irene walks toward me and hugs my shoulders with her strong hands. "Sweety, something..." she sighs, "something terrible has happened baby. Your parents' ship took a pounding by the weather and, they didn't make it. I'm so sorry sweety." She wipes away a tear in the inner tear duct of her eye and hugs me, trying to sob quietly, but shakes me in the process. The only thing that breaks my heart is seeing her upset, and my chest stabs with the knowledge that I made her cry. My only guilt from today will be making my one true friend cry as hard as I do everyday.

She takes me to the next room, which happened to be the family room. After sitting me down, she hurries over to the fireplace and lights a fire within a minute, drying her tears with the sleeve of her dress from time to time. It takes a moment, but I feel the trail of a tear on my cheek, though it took all of my effort to feel emotion. Irene comforts me with her arm around me and her other hand patting my hair. I nuzzle my head into her chest and dramatically sob. This lasts about ten minutes - she spends most of it trying to "cheer me up". It's irritating to fake cry for this long. Frost spreads somewhat far down my dress and when she notices this, she grabs my hand off my lap and holds it tight next to her chest, as if warming it up. She is now one of the only other people who knows about my powers.

"This is going to be hard for all of us, not just one of them, but both. What are the odds?" She says, more just thinking out loud instead of to the 16 year old girl next to her. I don't know if she intended for me to hear.

"I don't know," I reply anyways.

Her breath catches on itself. "You know what this means do you?"

"What?" as if I don't know.

"There will be a new queen. You. Once you come of age." I suppress a smile.

"Oh, right. Dad used to tell me things about that." Finally my time has come. It's in motion. "What will happen before then though?"

She thinks a moment. "I think some of your fathers advisers will oversee the kingdom until you can serve as queen. But we will be given time to grieve before anyone is in reign."

Anna's ear piercing cry is apparent throughout the entire castle, including the family room right next to the entryway. I make an effort to sort of hide myself and Irene in case she decides to come in here. Of course she runs upstairs instead. It seems like every time I see her she's so emotional.

The funeral is only several days later. Anna stands alone beside the gravestones. I stand in my bedroom, swirling some flurries between my fingers. I've tried reading and writing poetry and practicing piano downstairs. The castle is empty except for my piano clunking.

It's been two hours and nobody is back yet, though I keep checking. Irene said it would be a while. She came back early because there's some other gathering afterwards and she just wasn't in the mood for it. My kind of mood.

We go to the kitchen and make a snack before anyone else gets back. It's nearing dusk when Anna's coach arrives. She's dressed in a long black dress with a black winter hat and cloak. I hustle back to my room at the sight of her and hide behind the door. I'm reminded that I must keep it in, and maintain control, though it felt nice to breathe a little.

There aren't any running boots or loud giggles down the hall, only serious walking. Not really even crying. Just the sound of Anna's winter boots scuffing on the floor. She stands outside my door, I can feel her breath on my neck. "Elsa?"

I don't answer.

"Please, I know you're in there... People are wondering where you've been."

Silence. She hums a little tune and I let it happen.

"They say keep your chin up, and remain strong. I'm trying all along..."

Why did I do this?

"Please, let me in." There's a little thump against my back as she leans against it and slides down. I press my ear against the door.

"We only have each other. What are we gonna do?" Her sobbing shakes the door.

I'm such a screw up. Course I don't really care about her. I wish she had gone down with them. But...

my parents are gone. What if they actually loved me?

No! fuck them! They were going to betray me.

but they protected me.

They lied through their teeth.

no

yes

no

what?

I come back to the room and I'm blankly staring at the floor, hugging myself with one arm. Anna is still whimpering.

"Go, Anna. I want to be alone."

She's startled by my sudden choice to speak. "We're already alone, what more do you want?"

"I mean I don't want you here!"

_After the first few weeks of solitary confinement, I'd hear Anna's little footsteps running around, causing mischief. I longed to be out there with her. I'd watch her building sloppy snowmen outside my window with Irene keeping an eye on her. And I knew she was watching her because one time I snuck downstairs to get something to eat from the kitchen and Irene helped me out while she washed the floor and once in a while shout to my sister to be safe around the icy duck pond. _

"_Why don't you go outside with her?" She asked me once. I unfolded my fists and turned my palms up to show her the frost in the center of my hands. She shrugged, "So? It's already snowy outside, she won't notice if there's snow on your hands." _

_This news made me jump for joy, and I ran to get my boots and coat and winter dress. I was downstairs and flying out the door in under five minutes. Anna was putting snow on top of the pond and laying in it. The fluffy white spread out when she moved her arms and legs to make an angel. When she saw me standing over her, she leaped up and hugged me and cheered "Oh my gosh! Yay! Elsa! Oh my god, I've missed you so much! Why have you been in your room all the time? I thought you hated me!" _

_I giggled at her excitement. "Wanna help me build a snowman?" With that, her eyes lit up. We ran over to a pile of snow that had fallen off the tree branches and made our way. The snow felt nice on my hands, even though they were growing numb. I felt _warm.

_Anna was by the pond getting some now around the edges, she'd slide through the middle to get from side to side. Several times she tripped and landed in the white fluff and laughed. She looked at me with euphoric eyes and an adorable smile. I replied back similarly. Afterwards, she'd get up and continue on. _

_The next time she tripped was in the middle of the pond. Her head hit the fragile ice and it gave way underneath her. From a distance, I heard the cracks and crashes and screams. I ran to my sister. The depth of the water was misleading to it's size, it could have swallowed both of us without a trace. _

"_Elsa!" she screamed for help, "Irene!" Our nanny ran out. I tried to grab Anna, but Irene told me to go inside and grab a blanket and towel. Anna splashed me with ice water while she flails around. I go inside and retrieve the objects. When I came back out, Anna and Irene were walking inside, the older lady with her arm around the young, shivering girl. I handed my sister the blanket and she wrapped it around herself. Irene patted her dry. I noticed a handprint on Anna's right arm, it was left in frost. Still in shock, I grabbed my hand and held it to my chest. My sister cried, with scratches on her arms, and the ice starts leaking towards them. Irene see's this and brushes it dry with the towel. The nanny looks at me, scared, but as if she was scared of me. I am guilt. I am anxiety. I am fear. Even my beloved sister had fear in her eyes. _


	6. Debate and Disorder

_Too much goddamn light!_ I am awakened. The fucking sun looks like a fan of fire in the frost frost on the window. It's glazed over. It's nearing noon.

"Elsa get up!" Irene shouts from the door. When I don't reply, she barges in.

"What the hell, Irene?" I say, still groggy.

"You're late for your conference with the royal advisers! Everyone's already there, get your ass up and get dressed. They're furious!" she yells, more brutally than usual.

I comply with her demands. After a couple minutes of her helping me grab pieces of my outfit together in grunts and silence and ruffling clothing, I ask her, "Why are you so stressed out about this, Irene?"

She stays silent, and I repeat my question until halfway through she puts up her hand while she's fixing my dress. Her eyes fixated on a point on the skirt's hem - her expression: trying to sum up a reasonable answer simply and easily. Finally, avoiding eye contact, she answers, "They're discussing the plan of reign for the kingdom today."

I knew that, "Yeah, and?"

She starts and then stops several times before she finds a way to put "They may not make you queen," easily. It's not easy and there was no other way anyways. My eyes widen.

"What do you mean they won't choose me! Who else?!" I scream, backing off from her and hobbling to the bed to quickly tie my shoes.

"Your parents never put anything in their will. It would normally be the first born, but they might decide otherwise. They aren't sure who can better handle the responsibility. That's why they called the conference."

"You don't know all that..." I'm holding on to hope.

"I am technically your guardian. I have some credibility to this. Get down there before you get restless!" she pushes my down the hall and quickly courts me down stairs to the big giant doors. We reach the conference hall and the entire way, I've made up my course of action.

The doormen open the doors and I nod my head to both them and the head advisor, Sir Bjorn, at the end of the table. "I'm sorry to keep you all waiting, my notice of this meeting must have been misconstrued in the delivery, as regarding the time," I announce, walking in.

There are fourteen chairs occupied by three women and nine men and Anna. I take my seat with grace at the left flank of the Sir Bjorn, across from my stupid sister, and next to some older men. I've only seen a handful of these people maybe once or twice, actually talking to them. Irene stands a couple feet behind my chair. Her gravitational pull keeps me grounded and centered in my place, as if her hands were on my shoulders, playing with my hair. Anna waves to me and I nod contently in response, only because everyone was looking at me.

The elderly man with grayish hair, youthful-ish face, and tired eyes addresses the group, "Are we ready to begin?" Everyone nods or says yes to reply. "Good, let's start by addressing the current position of power, until a queen comes of age." This bothers me that they said "a queen" instead of "Elsa". I'm 17 and Anna is 14, clearly I am to be ruler.

A woman at the opposing end of the table says that in the Constitution of Arendelle, it states that "If the king is not able to perform royal duties permanently, the queen or advisory board may regulate power until an heir is chosen at the age of twenty." I remind myself to smile and ease up remembering I'll be twenty before Anna.

"Okay this is settled. Now onto the will. Mr. Ekstrom will be appointed to taking care of the matter, mostly." A dark-haired man next to Anna nods to him and smiles.

"The only matters left to our jurisdiction from the will is future rulership, financial issues, and some relations with other kingdoms," he reads from a paper with a list of problem after problem. I dig the knife into the jelly of content and spread it on my face so I look more appetizing. I smile and nod more than I probably should as he talks, but I've checked out a while ago. They talk forever about aiding other countries financially, since apparently that was my fathers job and he was always so good with accounting, so they'll need to find someone else who can fill the position. Occasionally they ask me to add input, which of course I do, even though I have little knowledge on the Arendelle financials or trading issues.

After long conversation about the boring, we get on to the future heir of Arendelle. "I don't mean to be rude, but why is this a topic for debate, Sir Bjorn?" I ask, eager.

"The will you see, it wasn't finished. We're only sorting out all the bugs." _I didn't ask for your cryptic answer, I asked why the fuck I'm not already set to be queen, you ass! _I nod in comprehension.

"The constitution says that the first born will take the throne..." a woman says.

"So until there is one that has turned twenty..." another speaks.

"The Advisory Council will undertake those duties and..." It's like they don't want to say it but they have to. They're elongating every sentence to drag out the time before confirmation.

"Princess Elsa will have the right of Heir to the throne," Mr. Ekstrom says, seeing through the others bullshit. I can tell none of them like me but they have no choice. My heart palpitates rapidly, though I must calmly smile and nod at this motion. I look over at Sir Bjorn to my right and see a blank expression, almost as if surprised. I want to stick out my tongue and roll my eyes and say, "Haha, fuck you," though it wouldn't get me very far.

The meeting comes to an end and the advisors greet each other. I was getting bored to tears in the two hour meeting, so it's wonderful to stretch. As I stand and the others disperse, I notice some papers on the table with scribbled notes in cursive I can barely read. At the end of the list, I can make out "_Speak with Princess Anna_", and as I look up, Sir Bjorn is swimming towards my sister. I follow the stream close behind, concealing my intentions with innocent nods and smiles and hellos and how are yous. The two little fish are on the other side of the doorway.

I look along the bookshelf on the wall and pick out some random book, keeping an interested look as I eavesdrop. Sir Bjorn's voice is kept low, "Your highness, may I speak with you sometime tomorrow in my office?"

"Sure, I'd be delighted," her lowness replies, "What do you need to talk to me ab-"

"-Oh don't worry about it, dear. Just some business that pertains to you," he cuts her off.

Their conversation drifts out of earshot, but Irene has found me anyways and asks if I want to go out for lunch in the town. "Why not?" I say and we grab our things and some money, while in the midst, I ditched my crown.

Our favorite little restaurant, Belåtenhet, is just opening when we get there. The woman behind the counter's name is Sanah, which I always that was beautiful. She always greeted us with a smile and not once made a big deal about where we came from, just what we were having. "And what are my favorite two having today?" she greets us as we walk in.

"Hi, Sanah," we respond contently. I continue on, glancing at the menu on the wall, "I don't know what I'm getting yet. Irene?"

"Did you run out of my favorite soup again?" she teases her sister. They look nothing alike but they promise

"Hey hey, you know I tried to keep some for ya. We have some, I'll get started on it while you decide, Elsa," Sanah says as she's off to the kitchen behind her.

I lean on the counter, arms folded underneath me, and look up at the choices. Once I've chosen the Averøy Fiskesuppe (seafood bisque), the absolute best thing ever, I shout it to her in the kitchen and she says "I WAS EXPECTING THAT!" and we laugh at the remark. Sanah's such a cute little thing. Her dresses are always some shade of red or pink or orange with buttons and puffy shoulders. I'm always blinded by her bright blond hair, which is often pinned back on the side. Sometimes I'd envy how wavy and bouncy and short her hair is, compared to mine. She'd somehow compliment me on it and I'd be caught off guard.

Irene and I find a seat by the counter. "So, hun, do you think the conference went well?" she asks as I sit down.

"I wouldn't know, I was asleep for most of it," I say with a grin.

She rolls her eyes and smiles, "I was dozing myself. But seriously, some of that stuff will be important for you to hear someday, it's good practice."

"I know. They just didn't seem very interested in me being heir..."

"I noticed."

There's a short pause, I lock my eyes to the pattern on the tablecloth. "Do you think they know?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. Your father spent a lot of time with those people."

"They hate me."

"No they don't, hun. They're just ignorant."

"Ignorance would imply there is something good about me that they aren't understanding."

"So?"

Tears well, but I suck them in, "There's nothing good about me."

"Hush, there is. They're only afraid of what they don't know. They want to protect the kingdom." She reaches over to me and pats the arm that is bolstering my head. I shrug as I trace a figure 8 on top of the table with my other hand. Sanah brings over our bowls. I jump a little when it comes into sight.

"Everything okay, Elsa?" she asks.

"I'm fine," I utter, settled down now.

"I've known you for a long time, tell me what's up."

"Business issues." I haven't budged from stirring the bisque around in the bowl.

She pauses a moment and glances away, "Well, I'll leave you girls to it. Enjoy." I only hear her footsteps growing fainter. The clang against the bowl is the only sound. It's teeth aching scrapes and ear shattering dings. I think someone else is talking, but they're so far away. Everything is gone and away. The only thing in the entire world is this Averøy Fiskesuppe and me.

_Elsa_ "Elsa" _Elsa!_ I'm being called, but I don't know by what or from where. "ELSA!" I'm shaken back to. Irene looks worried; her hand on my shoulder, shaking me vigorously.

A moment passes before I answer, "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Are you okay?" Irene asks, unmoving.

"Y-yes," - I clear my throat - "What do you wanna do after this?"

"Whatever you'd like, if you're not feeling okay, we can go back home."

I'd rather cut my head off than go home. Seriously, I'm eyeing the knife. "No. Let's just stay out today." Let's go no where near the castle or anyone in it.

She agrees and we continue eating our food. I'm finished quickly and we laugh at how it magically disappeared. The rest of the restaurant clears out except for us, so Sanah comes over and pulls up a chair from the table next to us. Her lunch was some kind of lamb-meat-whatever soup that I never understood how she could stomach it. It's the weirdest combination of things like lamb, peaches, corn, and some potato.

There is a small print of snow where my finger drew the figure 8 earlier. For once, I didn't have to care about it. Sanah knew about it the couple times I'd hand her my plate with a snow hand print on the edge of it. She thinks it makes me unique, I think it makes me a monster.

We both notice the pattern at the same time. "How's that going, by the way?" she mutters, making sure it's not too loud.

I shrug and look at her as if the answer is obvious. _I have no clue._

"I'm sorry," she tries to console, but it only adds to the bittercold numbness.

"It's fine."

All of us find ways to change the subject. Irene tells us that she found a spoon under Anna's pillow the other day while cleaning and how it was the strangest frickin thing she could ever expect from that girl. Sanah said that last week, a man with a bejeweled cane and flamboyant coat came in to the restaurant and ordered some meat "like a steak or pork or something, I don't know. So I tried to humor him and said something like 'anything else, your highness?' and he did not find that amusing at all, but it was really funny."

We all laughed and cried for an hour until Irene and I had to go. The next stop was the candy store a little ways down the road. It has some french name about like creamy chocolate or something like that, but we always call it the candy store. They have the sweetest smelling chocolate and caramel.

The bell at the top of the door rings when we walk in. Annker Oaken is standing next to the display of hard colorful candies. His husband, Edrik, is stirring a pot in the kitchen and their talking about what berries they needed to get. Both men are bulky, big, and masculine, and have very thick Norwegian accents. They bring me joy when they hug or kiss, it's always more genuine than other couples. More sincere. As if any minute could be their last together.

"Hi, Annker, Hey Edrik," Irene says, shouting to the man in the kitchen.

Frighteningly in sync, they both reply back "Hei!". Most of their recipes are in norwegian, and their heritage is strickly in Norway and Arendelle, so their english is usually slurred with sprinkles of foreign language.

"Yoo hoo! Elsa!" Edrik yells from the kitchen. As a child, I would have scampered in there and seen him, but I simply walk to the counter and stick my head around the corner.

"Yoo hoo, Edrik!" Edrik and Annker might as well be my uncles.

"Can I assume you're here for some sea salt chocolates, my lady?" Annker smirks. I take the bag of sweet deliciousness from his outstretched hand and cursty in response.

"Thank you, daahhhlin," I say with a dramatically regel voice. We share a laugh and Irene chuckles from the corner of the room, looking at some dark chocolates and sweet candies.

"Do you think your sister will like these, hun?" she asks, holding up a bag of somethings I can't really make out. I hate that she speak of the bitch in my presence. I have to recollect myself before I answer.

"Uhm, yeah, probably," I stutter. The room gets painfully quiet in the seconds following, and I'm not quite sure why.

After a bit of small talk between Irene and the men, I suggest that we leave because of the time. The content lady agrees and we wave goodbye and walk back to the castle down the road. Some words spoken between us, but most of the voices I heard were the ones in my head. Anxiety is growing painfully inside my chest and it aches with every step closer to the castle - every step spent towards the eyes.

Unfortunately, soon we have entered the castle and Anna rushes to Irene, asking about something about food, or clothes, or her opinion on this or that or these or whatever. I kick off my shoes and robotically walk to my room. I'm pretty sure I didn't even blink.

I remember the hesitation in the words of the persons in the conference. How it was painful to say I was heir. They were sobbing in the fact I would be ruler, even though none of them knew about my powers.

And then I think about Sir Bjorn, and his fondness of Anna. How do I get out of the prison my room without Anna or anyone seeing me tomorrow?


	7. Classified

Boots hit the ground *bang bang bang* out in the hall. I hit the ground to peak under the door. Frost grows on the floor beneath me - it cracks as in my ear. She's close to the staircase when I see her pulling on her coat. Once she starts down the stairs, I count to five and follow her.

The entryway is empty but the sounds of her opening and closing the door. The Royal Business Affairs building is right outside the walls of the property. Anna's pink cloak flutters towards it and disappears. Bolting out the door, I race to catch up with her. Autumn leaves have fallen, moist with morning dew. I run the path of orange and red and push open one of the gate doors - the guard's just reading a book like he has nothing important to do.

Anna is already inside the building when I get there. Quietly, I sneak around the side of the two story structure to find the first floor window of Sir Bjorn's office. The cunt walks into the one I just passed and I duck underneath the window frame when I see her. Bjorn's sitting at his desk - back to me, hunched over his papers - until Anna knocks on the inside of the door to alert him. He immediately stands and goes to kiss her hand. Once I start losing the conversation, I take a stick and jam it underneath the window, cracking it open just enough. "...ood to see you, your highness. How are...," Sir bjorn says once I pick up on the chat.

"Good to see you too. What did...need... see me for?" Anna's words trail in and out of proper volume. She seems anxious.

"Oh relax, my lady..." I peek through the window to see Sir Bjorn bending back up from kissing her hand. She looks indifferent, but concerned. I would too. In the lighting, I notice how pretty she looks today. The way the color compliments her skin tone and her hair shines and falls perfectly past her shoulders. I'm disgusted by her soul but intrigued by her look. "...business to take care of regarding you."

He leads her over to the chair in front of his desk. After a long, uncomfortable glance at the bitch, he takes his seat, resting in a very pompous position - pompous meaning he looks like an asshole. I'm wondering why Anna didn't bring anyone with her. No chaperone. Not even Irene.

"I've been thinking about Elsa," the prick states.

"Yeah?" she leans forward, curious. Course she is. She knows where it's going, the little cunt.

He dramatically hesitates - I dramatically roll my eyes, "I just don't think she's capable of ruling Arendelle." Big shocker.

"What!? 'Course she is," Anna exclaims. Cut the shit, bitch.

"She just doesn't seem like a good queen to me. I don't think she'll be able to take care of the kingdom. Frankly, I'm afraid of her."

"I guess..." She sits back in her chair and looks away. A raindrop hits my cheek and makes me jump back. "She is kinda scary, I think she hates me." She says this more talking to herself than to him.

"Exactly! And we don't need someone like that as queen. Since it is her birthright, we can't necessarily change that except for some ways, but I need someone like you for it."

She raises an eyebrow at him but looks pleased with this invitation. The wind blows and rain pours. I'm soaked. It gets harder and harder to hear them.

"...but can we..."

"...if she... then..."

"... could work..."

"... what if..."

I almost yell "SPEAK UP ASSHOLES!" but then I remember. Many painful minutes go by, I'm straining to hear them still. A fucking leaf hits my face and I have to pull my hair to the side and quickly put it in a braid before it gives me away. I crane my neck up again to see them shaking hands and my sister leaving.

I've left scratches on the side of the building from my nails digging in too hard. The raindrops around me have frozen. I ponder hiding here until she is gone, but it's doubtful she'd miss the ice idiot - icediot... icdiot... i don't know - that's posted up against the wall.

Finally, I give up and run back to the castle. It took me until now to notice that I'm still in my nightgown. Anna is on her way out of the room when I decide to book it. The last thing I see is Sir Bjorn's hand moving down her lower back.

There's still several more yards to go and the cunt-waffle is nearing the gates. I hate them. They're too fucking slow to close when I need them too. I assume she noticed that already. After slipping several times on damp leaves and wet stone, I reach the doorknob and safeguard myself in the warmth of the dry air inside the castle walls. There isn't enough time to check out the window for Anna, but the glance I get of her while I'm running up the stairs is what I was expecting: smug, dramatic, serious, bitchy.

My room is the only place in my mind. The only thing. The only entity that I may absorb my attention in right now. It's door slams behind me - well not slam, but shut quickly, there was no bang in fear my sister would hear it. My wet hair sticks to it's wooden surface. I strip off my damp nightgown and find some other set of pajama's to wear. The first one I find is a mint green dress made of pure silk. It's supposed to be a nightgown, but it's still designed like an average dress.

Coldness trails behind my steps, sprinkles my path. I've run around the room and created a work of art. The line ends in front of me as I sit on the floor by the door and wait. Wait for silence. Wait for positive energy. Wait for the confirmation that Anna isn't coming up here to kill me - stab me with a butter knife. I don't move for forever, and none of those come.

Today is quiet besides the rain. It never lightens up, only gets harder. Irene attempts to coax me out of my room but it's locked up tighter than my frozen heart. My replies to her never exceed two words. I hate to be so cold to her, but there isn't any chance of a heat wave any time soon.

Dinner tonight is... well... awkward. Anna has some new outlook on our situation and it's turned her into quite the bitch. I'm not sure how to describe it, but she sits silently at the table and says nothing, not even to Irene. We all awkwardly poke at our food, scraping our forks against the plates occasionally, taking turns looking up at one another and then looking back at the food. It's a painful hour. Course after course after course, and we never finish. Irene tries talking to me first, and I'm less of a cunt about it. "How's that english assignment going, hun? You seemed stressed out about it last week."

"It's okay," I try, "I don't get why any of it is relevant to things I'll need later, but I guess it's important."

"Education is important, supposedly. But not every system is perfect, in fact, I can't think of one that is at all."

"Totally," I agree, thinking more of our monarchy government than tutoring. My stupid sister drags the end of her fork across her plate and it breaks my teeth. It's an ache I absolutely hate. Frost quickly grows up the side of her chair and over her shoulder. She doesn't notice it's cold touch, but I am frozen still. Irene sees it too and thinks quickly. We both act like there's nothing there, but that doesn't last long.

"Is it cold in here?" Anna asks, I smirk at her cliché remark, although her pessimistic tone ruins it.

"No, I don't think so. It's pretty warm to me," Irene says a little too quickly. The ice spreads down across her chest and up her hair. The middle aged woman stands to take care of her plate and accidently/on purpose bumps the table, spilling Anna's wine on her lime green dress. My bitchy sister backs up several feet.

"What the heck! Oh gosh," she screams.

"I'm so sorry, Anna!" Irene says, a little too dramatically, she tones it down, "Let's go get you into another dress for dessert." She runs around the table and leads her upstairs, but not before turning back to wink at me. This makes me very satisfied, but snow dusts Anna's footsteps all the way to the stairs. Irene brushes of the reminisce on the young girl's back.

Minutes pass and I'm still alone to self-loathe. It was so close and I wasn't strong enough to swallow my anger.

I have every right to my anger.

Even though it hurts others.

But that doesn't bother me as much as my strength. And I need that.

I need to kill her.

No I don't.

Yes, I do. Before she does.

You know she is?

Better safe than dead.

I'm pretty sure it's 'sorry'

I'm not sorry for anything.

If you're dead, then you'd be sorry.

Exactly, that's why she needs to go away. To break. To feel what I've felt.

Hush, they're coming back. Smile, nod, something!

The wonderful, savior nanny is accompanied by the stupid cunt wearing a deep pink sun-dress. She looks like one of those kids that were forced to wear their itchy sunday dress for church, except older. It's comical, really.

They sit back down, and I feel a hard pat on my shoulder from Irene. She gives me the eyes that means 'I'm pissed but we can't talk about it right now, be warned'. The pat was really a slap, but she still didn't want to hurt me, just scare me. I love her, but she isn't any bigger than me. If I let go, no one would have any control. If I just let go, I would have no worries. If I could only let go, I could be free.

But I still fucking can't.

No shit.

The floor under my feet turns cold. I look down at the accumulation of ice to see it growing up my tights, decorating my shoes, flaking my hand, blushing my cheeks. It lights up and explores the rest of my legs. In parts, it breaks through my dress and jumps into my hand.

Once Irene is settled in her seat, I kick her leg under the table and nod to my well frosted legs as I lift up the table cloth. She looks too and lets out a small gasp, then seals her lips, covering them with her hand. Our sous chef sets down slices of chocolate pie, topped with cream and shaved mint chocolate, in front of us.

"Are you okay, Irene?" Anna asks, noticing the lady with an anxious expression.

I admire Irene's wonderful ability to think quickly, "Oh sorry hun, hiccups. Had a little too mucha' the red stuff." She fakes a little _hiccup_ at the end of her sentence and bounces with it. Anna looks at her glass as if contemplating it, then giggles and walks around the table, oblivious to me at the end of it, and pats Irene's back.

"I'm alright, hun. I'll be right back, I'm going to get some water. Elsa, will you come with me?" I've been summoned.

"I ca-" Anna begins.

"Oh no, Anna, you just sit down. We'll be right back." _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit fuck. _

Irene grabs my arm and jerks me out of my seat. I stand up and act like nothing happened. Anna complies and sits down, while I am dragged to my doom. I pull my arm free of her grasp before we started off. She glares at me briefly, and I have to comply to her unofficial authoritative force.

Painfully, we get into the kitchen and Irene slams the door behind us. I flinch at the sound. She sighs and rests her head in her hand as I wait for her scolding. "Elsa, we really need to do something about this. We can't just wait for an answer to come," she finally says, shockingly not as reprimanding as I thought.

I stay silent and let her speak again, "This is going to hurt someone if it doesn't change, hun. And the advisory council takes that into consideration."

"Don't you think I know that! This shit is killing me!" I explode, shaking and throwing my arms around. I grab a glass off the counter - instantly sharpened with frostburn and leaking cold air - and throw it across the room. The crash is enough to send tears down my cheeks. The thought that no matter how many glasses I break, or icicles fall. No matter how big a sound is, or how hard I scream. All of my energy is poured into that glass, like wine, and no matter how much wine is in it, nothing can or will change. It's overflowing with my passion, my soul, my fucking everything. And I'm left dry.

Irene doesn't know what to say. I don't need her to say anything. I've accepted this about me and I'll use it to my advantage. The thing that bothers me the most is that I have to hide who I am. That people look at me and see a monster. That I can't be free, while that fucking bitch out there roams free all day. Sneaking out with Sir Bjorn, casually leaving the castle without an escort and no one gives a shit. But I step one foot outside and I must be "guarded" - more like watched.

I move over to the corner of the room next to the sink and pump out a cup of water. It takes a minute for me to come back and actually see the thing in my hand, see how it's quickly turning colder from my touch. I hold it in harder and hand it to the concerned woman behind me, hoping she'll get the hint to leave. She does.

I step on frost dusting the floor. It's kicked around by my shuffles to the window. The counter is cold on my ass when I sit down on it. I'm curled up with my arms around my knees, crying in anger, in pain, in whatever's inside me. Frozen forks and knives spear the walls as they fling from my hand. I give little care to what they hear from out there. Whatever I do is a question, whatever I say is a matter left ignored. If I was screaming and cursing at them, what would it take for them to hear me? If I was flailing my arms around and drowning, what would it take for them to see me? If I was choking their necks with rings of ice and slowly stabbing them with icicles rising from the ground, what would it take for them to stop me?

Answer: Nothing. Nothing could stop me. And nothing could make them give a damn about me. They're only concern is the burden I am.

A long time later, I don't really know exactly how long, I emerge from the kitchen. Tears have been dried, broken glass swept under the counter. Coast ensured to be clear, I tiptoe down to the library. The grandfather clock in the living room reads 10 p.m. - I was in the kitchen for two hours. I pause and realize that no one had cared enough to come find me. Whatever benefit of the doubt I had for anyone is gone now.

Once I quietly shut the library doors, I look for a candle to light the dark room. The rest of the castle is quiet, silent, and empty feeling. Not even warmth from the fireplace. With all of my tired effort, I manage to start a fire in it. There still isn't enough light, so I continue my search for a candle, though all I find is the nub of one with no matches nearby. I toss it behind me, noticing a bright glint of light as I do - a trail of my magic behind it.

Holy shit, can I conjure up light too? Crossing my fingers in one hand and dancing snowflakes in the other, the magic flurries up and glows in front of me. I whirl it onto my finger and touch the wicks of the two candles on either side of the couch, which immediately glow bright blue with a strange frozen heat. It looks like blue flame, but releases cold air - or smoke...?

After finding a book and settling in on the couch, I read some random poetry I don't understand. At times I squint to make out the words and the bouncing blue light on the page brightens until it's lighter than the fireplace. The cushions swallow me whole. A blanket drapes over my lap. Throughout the reading session, I change my position maybe nine times until I lay across it length-wise, book resting on my chest.

Shakespeare keeps me company for many hours. Although he's going on and on about love and death and war, I'm lost in all the assortments of letters. Why was this given to me? I mean the ice thing. I used to ask my mother this all the time when I was a child, and she'd pull me close and say "It's a gift from old Jack Frost himself," and she'd boop my nose with her finger and I'd giggle. And after she said that, I remember dragging my finger on the walls of the ballroom and drawing endless ice figures of pretty skies and the moon. Mr. Jack Frost would appear in many of them, standing next to me as our magic flew from our hands. I drew him with a white beard and a staff. The magic inside me created monochromatic drawings of blue that tailored my 5 year old tastes perfectly.

After hours of dancing around the room, painting with my soul, I'd stand back to admire my masterpiece. I'd stomp my foot to envelope the floor in smooth ice and twirl around with the curtains. My finger would lightly touch the walls and I'd be mesmerized with the trail of beauty I left behind me.

One time, Anna came in while I was doing so. She loved when we skated together. The ice was always perfectly smoothed out and if she was in danger of falling, I'd throw down some snow to break her fall. She'd hop up again and slide on her belly around the room. I remember her sliding over to the wall and touching her finger on it. Nothing happened and she asked me why. "Why isn't what happening?" I'd reply.

"The magic! Why can't _I_ do the magic too?" she asked frustratedly.

I couldn't think of an answer besides, "I don't know, just me I guess. I wish you could though." Disappointed, she looked down at the ground in sorrow, then grabbed my hand, forced it to point out my index finger, and touched it to the wall. The strong little almost three year old pulled me around behind her as we glided around the walls of the room, drawing at her bidding. One of us flinched and even when my finger left the wood, the ice didn't. When Anna noticed this, she dragged me all around the center of the room, the ice froze in midair and held it's place.

My sister world around my arm for a while, then moved on to recognizable pictures. After some hearts and smiley faces, I broke free of her grasp and said, "Wait wait! Watch this!" She waited patiently as I wove around the ice into a snowmen that froze in the air in front of us. Once I drew the face and carrot nose, it blinked at us and plopped on the ground. I didn't even know I could do that.

It looked down and freaked out because I forgot his limbs. "Hold on, I got you... there," I say completing my work of art. He smiled and gave us both a hug with his disproportioned arms. I was loved by my powers.

I've spent so much time wondering why I was deemed a monster because of what happened to Anna. And I'll never figure it out.

Dawn breaks into view after hours of words and thoughts romanticized and dramatized. Dazed and confused, I sit up, unsure of the time or how long I have been in here. Embers in the fireplace break apart and crack. The candles have dimmed to accommodate the approaching sunlight.

Several minutes pass, I blankly stare at the pink clouds through the windows. They reflect on the fjord and surround a brighter entity peeking up over the tree line. It's like little children gathered around, waiting for Santa to come down the chimney or when my aunt, Queen Primrose of Corona, would tell stories to Anna, Rapunzel and I as toddlers. While I compare these clever analogies, the sun stretches up into the sky.

I sneak out of the room of books and slink down the hallway. No one appears to be up and about except for some maids. When I pass the clock, it says it's 5:30 in the morning. Morning light drips onto the floor, and I play the game where it's hot lava, so I stick to the shadows. The last maid is out of sight, so I bolt up the carpeted stairs, down the hallway and look for the blue pattern on my door.

The bitch's voice calls down the hall, tiredly. I stay frozen in my tracks for a moment, then tiptoe as slowly as possible to my room. "Elsa? Irene? Who's that?" her voice sounds closer, I pick up the speed.

The fucking floor squeaks behind a footstep and my heart stops. "I know someone's there." Fuck it, I run to my room and shut the door fast, not concerned with the loud noise it makes. Anna comes around the corner soon, two small shadows are casted underneath the door by her standing in front of it. It's a painfully long moment before she knocks and says, "Elsa? I know you're awake."

I dare not breathe until her hand jiggles the doorknob.


	8. Straight Jacket

"Elsa?" an eery girl's voice asks. It doesn't really sound like asking; it's in a very confusing way.

I say absolutely nothing and hold my breath with my back against the door. I'm pushed forward by her force, deeper into the shadows. There's only a dim light from the cloudy skies and dusk. A slight crack of light slices the floor; I press harder on the door.

"Elsa, I know you're in here. Let me in." Her voice sounds more aggressive, impatient. I slam the door shut on her and quickly send ice to cover the edges. Once it's all frozen shut, I dash to my bed and hide under the covers, in hopes to shield me from the nightmare. For a while, she chooses to bang as loudly as she can on the door and yell at me, but all I hear are muffled cries for attention.

"What were you doing out of your room?" she asks with her sweet, innocent voice. As if she's never wronged.

The covers peel off me slowly. She is patient. "Go away, please Anna," I pitifully shout back.

"Stop it, answer me, now," she yells back, jiggling the doorknob again. Chips of ice fall on the floor and slide across the room. I refuse to say anything back to that bitch. More and more ice hits the floor. "Elsa, please, is something wrong? You never left the kitchen last night!" How do I explain to her that I'll slit her throat if she doesn't back the fuck off?

"You wouldn't understand, please just go away."

A long pause encompasses us. Then I hear a soft, "Can I please just come in, Elsa? Just to talk."

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Slowly and cautiously, I stand up and lerk over to the door. The ice melts away from the door and evaporates behind me. I unlock the barrier and crack it open. "What do you want?"

She stutters, "I-I... I just wanted to know where you were. I don't remember you coming upstairs last night." My eyes roll out of their sockets.

"I don't fu-... I don't know, I just..." I hesitate, trying to think on my feet, "I was just in the library for a while. Why do you care?"

"Why were you outside yesterday morning?" she blurts out. I'm dizzy with her sudden question.

"What?"

"Why were you outside yesterday morning?" she repeats, "I saw you, and you weren't with anybody."

"I was just getting some fresh air," I get out, gluing my eyes to the floor.

"You were running when I saw you. From what?"

"I wasn't running."

"Yes you were." A bead of sweat hits my forehead.

"No I wasn't! Go the hell away!" BOOM the door slams, spikey ice clings to the door handle and the wood around it. I think there is a voice behind the door, but it's distant, too far away for me to hear it, therefore I don't care to listen.

Many hours begin to pass by me as I lay in my bed, staring at the silk drapes of my canopy. I study the folds and dips and shades. Why is it that all I can think about is her? Like her weird friendship with Sir Bjorn and how she's always so happy all the time. How is she always smiling and skipping when everything is so shitty. Why does she always want to talk to me? Or see me? She's flawless and sweet and I'm ugly and salty. She's a flower and I'm a weed. Why does a beautiful flower want to talk to a pest, a burden?

"Breakfast, my lady," one of the irritating maid's says through the door. It scares me. I was pretty sure Anna was guarding my room.

"Oh, uh... hang on," I sigh. The door opens anyway, entering a woman carrying a heavy tray of breakfast items. "Since when do I get breakfast in bed?"

"Oh dear, special requests from Ms. Irene." Since when is Irene a Miss? Nevertheless, she sets down a silver tray of eggs, toasted bread, orange juice, some arranged fruits topped with mint leaf.

"Thank you, but I'd like to eat with Irene, like always," I assert. She's beginning to lose her fake good attitude.

"Princess Elsa, Ms. Irene specifically said for you to have breakfast here. Relax and recompose yourself," she nags like I'm an ill child stuck in bed. She places a fork and knife on the tray, turns on the gas lantern and leaves, not caring about how loud the door bangs behind her. Of course I'm the devil child.

"Oh, Princess Anna!" the same maid exclaims out in the hall.

"Hello there," the "perfect angel" sings.

"You're wanted in the dining hall, madame."

"I was just heading down there," she chitters. The other, older cunt says perfect timing and they bid farewell. And I start to realize that I am a caged animal to them. I'm the problem they can't escape. The problem they still have to respect and feed every once in a while. I'm a liability.

I shovel down the bits of food I hadn't turned cold yet. When I leave to explore the outside world, there are still plenty of eggs left on the plate. Irene would be furious. Past servants and maid's that I fear would turn me in, I slink down the hallway to Anna's room. Back when we shared it, we would throw tantrums if our parents tried to get me my own room. Crying and screaming. Now I throw the same kind of tantrum if I have to even look at her. I smile at the irony.

The door creaks open on it's hinges. It closes and rattles when the gears click into place. A metallic reflection gleams on the wall from a slight ray of sunshine hitting the corner of Anna's diary just right. I step over to the other side of the bed, where a brown journal, decorated with green ribbon, is squished between her mattress. My heart pounces has I reach for it. There's gotta be some stupid thing in here about the rest of what Sir Asshole said.

I sigh as I flip through the pages, all filled with short poems and paragraphs about me or mother and father. I check the very last page inscribed with her cute handwriting, and it only says:

_Remember to visit Sir Bjorn tomorrow at 8 a.m. _

The book slams closed, shoves itself in the mattress, and I sneak back out into the hallway, turning the handle on the door so it doesn't click too loudly when it closes.

I roam the vast hallways. They lead to so many rooms and doors that I never knew what they were meant for. Some are guests bedrooms. Some are studies. Some are conference rooms. Some are servants quarters. Some are supply closets. Some are bathrooms. Some I can't figure out so I leave alone. There's a wooden door at the end of a hallway that intrigues me. It's white is just a little brighter. My curiosity is just a little stronger. The light from the window hits this lonely door just right, and I must investigate it's contents.

Upon closer inspection, the door opens smoothly and closes silently. On the inside is a narrow wooden staircase that curves up and around. I climb each step with caution, holding the wall for support. It's too dark to watch my step.

A single lantern dangles from the ceiling in a small glass enclosement at the top. Once I reach the end, I notice two door hinges on the black frame of one of the glass panels. The glass is blurred and stained in variant shapes. Transparent, but still a little opaque. I reach for the small black doorknob on the frame and pull the door open, finding the other side stretches for miles and miles. I'm overlooking Arendelle and it's beautiful fjords and flowers.

The sun shines over the kingdom and it warms my cold heart to see such beauty, to smell such sweetness, to taste the salty air. I lean on the short clay railing that surrounds the tower and take in the scene. Warm scents of Arendelle bakeries and cooking salmon from the bay woft up to me, swirling around like an elaborate dance. The shine from the water, peeking around the treeline, is like out of a fairytale. The sky is so blue, it's the kind of warm blue I remember once upon a time.

I sit on the short railing, warmed by the sun, dangling my feet over the other side. There are puddles underneath my hands where there once was snow. For once, I am relaxed. Birds chirp in harmony as I take in the beautiful green grass. I haven't seen something so wonderful. The only times I ever get to leave the castle are days when no one will be out or around much. When it's raining or snowing and gross. It's been years since I've felt the sunshine on me. It's like a hug I've been anticipating by a loved one. Like my mom...

Before Anna was born, my mother would hold me in her lap by the fire and read to me. Or we'd go out in the kingdom some days together with Irene and have a girls day. I've missed the feel of my hand in hers as we'd cross the street. I felt safe. I felt like the sunshine was gripping me close, ensuring my safety as my mother once did. As cheesy as it sounds out loud, I feel my mother's soul was absorbed into the sun and is protecting me in her warmth.

As I reminisce, a door slams shut from below. The lip of the red roof obscures the person walking out. Faintly, I hear their footsteps in the grass. They aren't running, but their keeping a fast pace. I walk around the tower perimeter, following what I hear, until the person emerges from the shadows. Anna's wearing a yellowish dress that sort of blends in with the bright green underneath her. Her hair is up in a loose bun. She's surprisingly good at concealing the devil horns on her head though.

Her expression looks concerned, or infuriated, or confused, or irritated. Or a mix of all four. The bright dress with the the green flowery design disappears behind the side of the castle. Curious, I climb over the railing and tightrope walk the peak of the roof. I slip several times and find that this method is too slow. The last time I slip would have been fatal if I hadn't struck the brick peak with an icicle, strong enough to hold me. Christ I would've been killed! I pull myself up and continue my journey til I crawl over to the end of the path.

The stupid girl appears again, sitting on the bench by the pond, accompanied with a mysterious stranger. I have my bets that it's Sir Bjorn. A big, masculine hand pushes some hair out of her face, while the other rests on her bare shoulder. I roll my eyes.

"Oh how stupid Elsa is," I figure she's saying, "She won't even see my knife coming at her."

"Excellent. You will take over the throne and let her rot at the bottom of the fjords!" the old man is probably saying, probably not as blunt or cliché, but I get the point. As they keep talking, I try to shimmy my way down the roof and onto the balcony of the room below me. I think it might be the master bedroom but I can't really tell. After swinging myself from the edge of the roof onto the landing, I hide in the shadows and listen closer. They aren't too far away, but still their words are faint. All I hear is mumblings.

I find myself deeper into the room and further from hearing them. Everything in here has stayed intact since the death of my parents. The shades are closed and the bed is made. It appears to have been dusted recently. I step over to the bed and remind myself what it's soft silk and cotton feels like. Under my fingers feels like a cloud.

I used to love coming in here before Anna was born. I'd snuggle up to my parents when I had nightmares or if the thunder was roaring too loudly. My father would tell me that it was only God throwing a party. When a clap of thunder would sound, he'd say "Boom! They're doing the waltz!" and I'd laugh. The blankets sting with the memories that were all lies. My heart aches remembering the happiness that was, in reality, betrayal. Another piece of me is stitched into the sheets that housed me when I was scared. They took my trust and twisted it, now I'm forever in the silk of this bed.

I swallow and walk over to the other side of the room, where one of my mother's dresses hung on a hook in the closet door. She loved this dress. It was made out of cotton, the only truly casual dress she owned. It has a pretty red floral pattern all over it, with short sleeve shoulders and an open neck cut. The dress would flare open freely when she turned or spun. She wore it when she had nothing to do but enjoy the outdoors or garden or sing or whatever she damn well pleased. And she always had a very genuine smile in that dress. As I examine it's design, I grab it off the hook, throw it over my arm and bound out the door, letting it close behind me.

Before continuing on my excursion, I drop off the dress on my bed. I realize after looking in the full-body mirror behind my door that I'm still in my nightgown, again. My mothers dress looks so appetizing. And as I slip it on, it fits just right.

I finally find my brown flats and run down to the kitchen, where I'm startled by Irene's presence. The kitchen has a glass door to the side of it that I'm itching to get through. "Hello hun, why aren't you in your room?" she asks, drying off a bowl with a raggedy towel in her hands.

"Uhm..," I pause, "I... just wanted some water." She looks at me in a foreign, unfriendly way. As if she forgot I'm a human that needs to drink at times. Why am I getting offended? I'm not even thirsty.

"Okay, I'll get you some," she utters slowly. I watch her as she pumps water in the sink next to me. It fills up the glass in her hand and she puts it on the end of the counter. I take some sips and she goes back to her dishes. There's a long pause as I slowly head towards the door. Then she sighs and walks over to the corner of the counter. She turns around and hands me a little ring. It's a gold band with the outer metal bent up. "This was one of your parents' wedding rings," she murmurs, "One of the crewmen on board found it. It might have been your mom's but they had identical bands. You can have it now."

I look at the piece of metal. I'm ambivalent about the gesture. I want to take it but I also want to throw it across the room. I take it anyways and shove it in the dress pocket. She nods and walks back to the sink; I continue out the door.

The grass tickles my ankles as I amble down and around the building in search of the devil pair. They aren't by the pond anymore. I find them slowly strolling through the garden around the corner; I conceal myself behind the wall and a short bush. I'm catching up on their conversation. I think they're talking about me. The times I hear Anna's voice makes my toes curl and my fists ball up tighter, "...are we doing exactly?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of everything after your trip," Sir Bjorn says soothingly.

"Okay... just as long as I get my part too." Anna asserts.

He grins at her and mumbles, "Everything will go swimmingly." Her expression of innocence surprises me, but does not fool me. There's a long pause.

"How's this going to work though?" she breaks the silence, "What do I have to do?"

The prick purses his lips as he articulates an answer, "Well, I'll need you to do some things for me. But I'll talk to you about it later." She _huffs_ and blows her hair in her face, then pulls it behind her ear. It shines in the sunlight and the stray curls fall just right. My breath is caught when she looks up and her eyes gleam. Freckles decorate her nose and cheeks, much more than mine. Cute little shit.

An itch on my leg sends my hand rushing down, which rustles the leaves on the bush. Fucking damn it. I slam against the wall out of sight. "What was that?!" Anna shrieks.

"Probably just a squirrel or something," he says.

"Uh... okay," she stutters. They continue walking. I start for the other side of the castle; light white powder remains in my foot prints.

The pale stone is my safeguard. I find myself thinking more and more about them. I fear that they'll tag team stab me in my sleep one night. Could they really want me gone? Who can I trust even trust anymore...

"Got everything, Elsa?" Irene asks holding my bedroom door open. I'm leaking ice with every step while running around.

"Almost, and close the damn door. Anna's around somewhere," I warn her. She comes in and shuts the door behind her. Then runs over to help me squish my shit into my bag and strap it up.

"Do you have everything _now_?" she asks again.

"Yes it's all good now." We grab my bags and head downstairs. A tall man awaits for my things. I hand them over and he carries them out the door, down to the port. The fall air wafts in from the opening, it's a strong chill that freezes my ankles in these flats.

I've been in such a rush all morning that I've totally disregarded any proper undergarments for this dress, so I'm cold as fuck - a strange feeling for me. Irene grabs a jacket from the closet near the door. She hands one to me and then pulls another on herself; she looks at me like hell lies ahead, but we can't back out. It's just an island north of here. Boring as shit but not really hell. "I heard it's tropical," I try.

"Yeah, guess so," she mumbles, extending a hand to gesture me out the door with her. Hesitant, I come with her outside while one of the servant's wave goodbye. I smile and nod to him. He returns the favor and closes the door behind us.

The dock creeks beneath me. A gentle frost crawls onto the wrists of my sleeves. I suck it in quickly and continue onto the ship. The smell of fish makes my stomach turn. "Princess Elsa, I shall show you to your cabin," says an averaged sized young man. I'm not sure of his occupance here, but I guess he's one of the crewmen.

He courts me to my cabin. I thank him and send him out. It's going to be a days long trip and I intend on avoiding everyone at all costs, especially Anna if I can manage. With my thumb and fore finger, I rub the golden band on my ring finger on my other hand. Somehow it will protect me.


	9. Pretty Woman

"Oh jesus why!" Irene yells over the side of the ship, muffled in her seasick fluids and the wash of the waves. The waters are normally a little turbulent, but she's never been able to handle it well. Her convulsing body is leaning over the edge outside my cabin door.

"You're gonna be okay, Irene," I say, consolingly, though a little annoyed. It's only been 7 hours at sea and she's losing her shit. Her lunch floats by in the water and I'm ready to vomit as well. Night has fallen and it's growing colder out. The air is humid, therefore, foggy.

"Why do I always need to come on these trips?!" she shouts again. I can feel the lethargy in her voice.

"Why _do_ you need to come?" I ask.

She throws up again and I shudder. "Because," - she coughs - "I made a promise to your parents. Usually I don't regret it but when I have to puke my insides out, I second guess it."

"What promise?"

"Just to watch over... the both of you if anything happened to them," she hesitates before she says 'the both of you' because she knows the promise only concerned me. I nod and let it be for now.

A slightly older man approaches us and advises me that dinner will be distributed soon. "Distributed?" I repeat.

"Yes, we'll be handing out some plates from the kitchen for now. We are very close to the Southern Isles and don't want to indulge in a full course meal if we'll only have an hour to do so," he robotically mimics his ordered news.

"See Irene, we've only got an hour left of this."

"_IF_ I last that long." She heaves over again and the man flinches at the sound. I pat her back as he walks back in the direction of the kitchen. The moon shines on the water, periodically broken by the peak of the waves. The deck is virtually empty except for some other crewmen sweeping the creaky wood.

I feel like maybe practically hanging upside down off the side of the ship, staring straight into the bumpy water does not help seasickness. During the short rift in her violent expulsions, I help her to the kitchen to get dinner and then sit her down outside my bedroom. She still slumps on the wooden railing for support, but shovels food in her mouth. "To be honest, this kinda tastes like asshole," she makes me laugh.

"That's just the vomit in your mouth, Irene," I tell her, "Your taste buds are still stunned by the throw up that everything tastes like shit. Happens to me a lot."

Irene simply groans. "I see," she acknowledges, looking down at her food. I stare off into the vast space beyond the boat. It's about 6 p.m. and the autumn sky is ebony black, dotted with stars and wooshed with wisps of clouds. The wind chill picks up and sends a quick shiver down Irene's spine, though it feels like a warm breeze to me. I pat her shoulder and quickly grab the blanket on my cabin bed and wrap it around her back. "Thanks, hun."

"Not a problem." Fork clangings overwhelm the air, aside from the waves and Irene's liquid additions to the ocean every 5 minutes. I feel bad for her, but I block them out eventually.

We finish the mush in silence and I bring the plates back to the kitchen. The chef nods to me as I place them on the countertop. As I'm walking away I notice a little icy finger print on the plates. Goddammit. One of the servants picks them up before I have time to wipe anything off. I'm back out the door quicker than the wind. The middle-aged lady looks up at me from the floor when I come up to her. Her eyes widen. "Everything alright sweetie?" she worries.

I rub my hands and clasp them close to my chest. She understands.

"Did anyone notice?"

To be honest, I don't know, "Maybe..."

"Maybe they'll just brush it off like it was nothing," she tries.

"Yeah..." I hold on to that, praying the servant doesn't follow up on it with me. Hoping to relax, I walk over to the edge of the boat and look down at the frigid water. My hair blows in my face in the wind and I pull it back. Sea water sprays up and dots my dress. Melted ice makes me feel a little bit better anyways.

After a bit, the wood under my hands has turned white so I pull my hands away. I run to go find my gloves, almost tripping over Irene in the process. Yanking through my bag, frost tracing the edges. I manage to recover a pair of silk white gloves, specially fitted to my hands. I slip them on and throw my bag at the wall and slam the door. Irene flinches up at the sound but I disregard it.

A dark blob emerges from the fog. It's outlined with trees and tall buildings that seem so foreign to me. The lighthouse dimly illuminates the blurry air. Soon the boat reaches the docks and some men assert themselves into my cabin and bring out the luggage. Irene and I are the last off the ship, avoiding Anna at all costs. I step down off the board that is somehow holding me above a narrow drop into the salty water. The stone is cold under my feet. I extend a hand to guide Irene onto the dock as well and help her balance. We are lead to our coach, the one I wish I could push Anna out of.

Why the hell am I in the same fucking coach car as Anna? Jesus chri-

"How was the trip for you guys?" Anna jitters, in the middle of my thought, "I didn't see you the entire time." We sit down across from her

Neither are expecting an answer from me, but I give a quiet "Fine."

"Not well but I lived," Irene replies louder. I look out the window and rest my aching head on the cool glass pane. Anna's eyes burn into the side of my face; a ball of anxiety lumps in my throat. I inch farther and farther away from her, backed into the corner. There are some clicks from the front where the horse starts. The sea disappears and becomes warm colored buildings and oil street lamps. Palm trees spread across the distant shore line and some on the street corners. A little gecko scurries up the side of the exotic tree trunk - a couple minutes later, I see a tiny one chilling out on top of a big-leafed bush on the side of the road. It stares at me with it's wide buggy eyes. The leaf is bouncing as though he just jumped onto it.

A lit bedroom window catches my eye on the second floor of one of the homes. The closed curtains glow with it's yellow light. The illuminance originates from a small boy's lantern on his nightstand. His mother's shadow comes to kiss his goodnight. His arms reach up to give her a hug with his tiny hands. The bigger shadow leans down to embrace him, though another tree and tight corner hinder my view of the rest.

The pathway grows more narrow, and cleaner, as we find the royal entrance. The castle peaks out of the tops of a thin layer of trees. Wishy-washy hums of Irene and Anna's conversation fades in and out of my focus. Everything has been utterly silent for me on this short ride. As we approach the iron gates, there are more murmurs from outside the car, then the tall barricades open and we drag on. The road continues up and bends to the left, concealed by the foreign green growths. At the end of the turn, a great patch of land opens up. Bright green grass covers every inch of the outskirts around the castle. Dirt flows into sand by the quiet cove to the side of the tall structure.

The coach stops outside, around the fountain, and we are let out. The stonework of the building is a very light yellow, complemented with deep blue roofing. I escape the crowded car as soon as I can, the others emerge more slowly. The night air is still frigid. Anna's teeth are chattering, so just for fun, I walk behind her and blow a wind chill in her direction. I wonder how long it would take for her to turn into a solid block of frozen cunt?

Another horse-drawn car comes up and parks behind ours. It's manifest consists of our luggage and small bags of more luggage. My head snaps over to the glowing inside of the castle, where a figured shadow darts to the door in the light. It opens and a suited man greets the other suited man whose sole job is to introduce us. We all walk up - Anna still shaking - and of course the man bows to us. I nod and proceed into the corridor; I assume Irene and my sister are following behind.

The ceiling is tall with intricate moldings. A chandelier hangs above our heads. The inside has a lot brighter of a theme than our home - white and yellow walls, light blue accents. It's a lot more colorful.

Anna slips off her gloves and I almost follow her lead casually, but then I remember and hold my hands together in front of me. A figure enters the room from the side hallway. The king comes into the light; a very pleasant queen on his arm short behind. Her quiet expression impels pity for her, as though she is never heard, or is too shy to say something. At the same time, she keeps a polite and confident exterior, as she is royal and must maintain grace. A metaphorical mask I understand well.

Naturally, I gravitate towards her as they come to greets us. "Hello, Princess Anna and Elsa of Arendelle. I hope your trip fared well," the king says. I have yet to learn his name. King... Johann?

My mouth falls agap, preparing to speak. "It was your typical ship ride, a little rocky, but we survived," Anna replies instead. No words come out of me though, just air.

"Well you're here now. I'm sure you both would like to take time to rest and settle in," the king courts.

"Oh yes, of course," the queen agrees, "Aliya! Please show our guests to their temporary rooms." A youthful maid comes around the corner. She might have the same occupation as Irene, though her maid's outfit says otherwise. She seems to be my age, or maybe a little older.

"Right this way, your highness," she gestures for Anna towards the grand staircase in front of us. Irene moves in front of me and begins chit-chatting with Aliya. I stay behind, observing the finely dressed lady standing off to the side. The king walks back to deal with a matter with another servant, leaving the queen alone with me. She's a much curvier lady than me, though still slimming as well. Her formal clothes compliment her light brunette hair well and blue eyes to match. Something is off about her appearance though, I can't put my finger on it.

After an awkward moment of silence, I inch closer to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness," I say quaintly.

The woman smiles and quickly replies, "Oh please, call me Lizbeth, and I'm hardly a highness."

"Oh...," I stutter, "I was just assuming that you and King Johann were married."

"I wish, but my purpose is to be here for his children and his emotional support." She shrugs as if brushing it off but I can tell it bothers her to be a pet. I notice the absence of a crown or tiara and connect the dots.

"I'm sorry," I attempt.

"It's okay, dear. Really." She dismisses any trace of the topic and fabricates a new one, "How have you been, princess?" Her hand grips my opposing shoulder and we lead up the stairs as we talk.

"I've been fine. The deaths were sudden and, as you would expect, brutal on us all." Somehow I've managed that entire sentence with a serious tone.

"Oh I can only imagine your pain," she consoles.

"We'll get through this." I hope the sarcasm hasn't leaked through my teeth yet.

"It will get better with time, all things do."

The hallway after the staircase is drastically different than ours. From top to bottom, white, yellow and some green interchange in the design. They're are several bay windows that bring in much more light. The floor is a very light wood, Birch maybe. The walls emanate a strong white with intricate moldings.

A door, somewhat, a ways away down the long hall closes and I figure it's the room next to mine. As we get closer, I notice we do not diverge to either door on the right or left and I panic. I twiddle my fingers underneath my glove and pray that it soaks into my skin. There's a twinge inside them, like an ache that wants to escape the fabric and warp the world away. We approach the door and she opens it way faster than I was ready for - normal speed.

"Hello, your highness," Lizbeth sings to Anna, "Sorry for any delay. Princess Elsa and I were just catching up."

"It's not a problem,' Irene says, taking over the conversation - instead of the stupid princess who is going through her bag on the other side of the room - "I'm Irene, by the way."

"Hello, Irene, it's a pleasure to meet you." Her voice seems genuinely sincere. I notice the two beds in the room and my luggage sitting on the one not occupied by the pigtailed girl. My eyes widen and my heart races.

"Excuse me, Lizbeth," I interrupt them, pulling her aside, quickly apologizing to both of them, "Uhm, I wasn't expecting to be rooming with my sister." I try to seem a little more innocent, but I'm failing. I'm also not really sure if she's the person I'm supposed to take this up with.

"Oh well I figured you both would like to room together. The last time I saw you two, you were very close, always playing together and laughing; the closest little girls," she says, joyed with the memories. We were children, before everything went to shit.

I'm caught without words. My lips purse in thought but I eventually end with, "Okay,' and walk back to the bed opposite Anna's. I'm holding back tears hoping the anxiety doesn't swallow me up. Spending several days sharing the room with Anna. Irene pats my arm and calls for Lizbeth who has started walking back down the hall. I guess she's thinking the same thing I am_._

After the muffled voices in the hall fade out, the room is a sharp silence. Anna looks over at me and smiles like her cheeks will fall off. "Wow! We get a room together! I'm so excited, I missed that, Elsa!" she chitters, jumping and running over to me, cupping her hands together. Her screechy voice makes my teeth hurt. I thought you only got cold feet the day before your wedding? ...Oh shit.

"That's nice, Anna," I begin, trying to cover up the frost on the floor, " L-let's go downstairs, I'm sure they need us."

"We'll be fine, Elsa!" she scoffs, reaching for my hand and grasping it too tight. My heart stops. I yank it back behind me and clasp them together, as if casual. She frowns with her hand still forward. I walk over to the door and keep my distance from her, ignoring all her attempts to talk to me. I don't really care about her calls to me to wait for her, I just walk faster. I look behind me and realize there are dustings of snow where I had stepped. Once I see her gaze at the tracks, I bolt down the stairs. "Elsa wait!" she screeches.

I get to the bottom of the stairs and turn into the first room I see, which ends up being a bathroom. The door shuts and locks quietly, I back against the wall. Boots hit the ground outside, with a voice calling for me, but I remain still and silent. The room across the hall from this safe haven is the a family room, where Irene, Lizbeth, and King Johann are visiting with each other. I believe Aliya is in there too. I pray no one saw anything that just happened.

"Elsa please, where are you?!" the little asshole yells, not realizing the others can hear her. I want her to shut the hell up. I'm tempted to slither ice underneath the door and ring it around her neck. _Shut up shut up shut up!_

"Anna?" a distant man's voice asks, muffled through the walls.

"OH, uhm... Hi, King Johann." She walks in the other room, giggling nervously. Their conversation continues in a distant muffle. I look around the room for an escape. The floor hisses underneath me with frost.

Suddenly, a ray of heavenly moonlight gleams from behind. I stare at the window and figure where I would find myself if on the other side. I think it's just an indoor greenery. Climbing onto the sink and forcing open the window, I jump down into the grass. The natural light fades down the elongated room. The grass and flowers follow down to the entry door. A stone path waves it's way through the glowing greenery.

I slither my way to the door, finding it opens to the kitchen, where a surprised chef stands stunned looking at me. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, please relax it's only me," I say soothingly.

He nods, "Yes, your highness... Are you alright?"

"Yes," I answer too quickly, "I-I'm fine, uhm, a little agitated from the trip but I'm okay."

"Would you like something to drink?"

Hmm... "White wine please." He nods and takes out a wine glass. I fold my hands and graciously walk over next to him. His hands caress the bottle of aged wine. It glugs into the glass until I say it's enough. Irene would be pissed if I had anything besides milk or water but, frankly right now, I don't give a shit. He puts away the bottle and I walk out into the hallway. Before I leave, I turn back and put my index finger against my lips. The man smiles and understands, turning around to clean up the kitchen.

The liquid is cool against my tongue, though it warms my stomach. I notice some dirt at the bottom of my dress and brush it off with my hand, being careful of the full glass in my other. I approach the family room with my head held high. Voices burst into laughter as I walk into the room. "Oh hello again, Princess Elsa," King Johann beams, "We were just wondering where you were. I'd like you to meet my children." He gestures to the 15 randomly assorted people, all of drastically different ages, around the room.

Lizbeth walks over to the, what seem to be, the eldest sons, "This is Frederick, Lars, and Mikkel." Three men, around the king's age, nod respectfully towards me. The lady continues towards five more children, "Here is Johanna and Celeste, the oldest daughters, and these," - she pats the shoulders of three men next to the fireplace - "are Henrik, Harald, and Halvor." I smile and greet them cautiously, noticing my vision is slightly fuzzy from the wine.

The next nine children - Anders, Soren, Georg and Ida (fraternal twin brother and sister), Peter, and Karl and Kristian (more twins, and they look exactly the same) - don't all look like the oldest ones; though I'm not surprised, King Johann has a reputation for always wanting more children and more sons, even if the mothers don't make it.

"Well that's one, two, three, fo… fifteen of you, where's the last one?" the king asks. To be honest, I didn't know someone managed to squeeze out another kid.

"Is it Hans?" Aliya asks. As she says this, a youthful man walks through the other set of double doors on the opposite side of the room. I look him up and down and put a hand on my hip. His white suit looks uncomfortable on him and his expression seems shy, but as though he's deep in thought.

"Sorry I'm late," his voice is seductive and fine, and intrigues me dearly.


	10. Reprimanding Daughters

"Princess Elsa and Princess Anna!" a muffled man's voice announces through the door. My eyes shoot open and I sit up quietly. Anna is fast asleep in the other bed, canopy drapes obscure my view of her face. "Time to wake up, madams!" I rise from the mattress and tiptoe to the door. It opens before I grab the handle. "Oh sorry, Miss, I thought you were still sleeping. I'll just go wake your sister," he says, walking over to the other bed.

I step in front of him, "Oh no she'll be fine," I lie, "She always gets up on her own and likes it that way, otherwise it throws off her entire feng shui." His eyebrows furrow for a second, then he nods and backs out into the hall. I walk in front of him, hearing the door shut silently behind me, and grin.

The downstairs is hustling with people running around, mostly maids or servants. The kitchen, unlike ours, is down the hall from the dining room - bad planning on their part. Some of the other children are hurrying down the stairs or up the hallway to eat. Seems a little unorthodox. I press against the railing while a couple trample down the stairs beside me. A few moments pass, Hans turns into view from around the corner, keeping his head up but his eyes down. His pace is slower than the others. I hop down the rest of the stairs to catch up to him, then I gently grab his shoulder. "Good morning, Prince Hans."

"Oh, uh... good morning, Princess Elsa," he stammers. Something in his eyes amazes me. He's more of the little duckling in this family. Though maybe there's something else there too.

"How have things been for you?" I ask, not particularly caring.

"Me?"

"Well yes, of course."

"Things are okay, nothing interesting has happened here in a while."

"I see. So what do you do for fun?" I look around for Irene, she's no where in sight, as of yet.

"I don't know, sometimes I walk downtown to the pier, or go to the little shops or something." We begin to head down towards the dining hall, slowly.

"Cool, uhm...I'd love to go with you, today, if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah it sounds fun."

"But don't you have some kind of business to take care of with my father." Shit.

"Well, sort of. This afternoon, lets go do something. Okay?"

"Okay sure." I am still not comprehending what draws me to him. It's an irrevocable attraction, though it's far from romantic. It's simply a connection, and maybe he will say something about it later, though his quiet manner tells me he has more on his mind than simply that.

The young man saunters away for a moment, being beckoned by Lizbeth. I stand to admire him, then turn to find the dining hall, though I find Irene two steps behind me instead. Her nearness startles me and I jump backwards a minute. "Irene! What are you doing?!" I exclaim, then collect myself, "I mean… I wasn't expecting you to be there. Sorry."

"I've been looking for you. The king wants to talk with both you and Anna during breakfast. He'll also wan..." her voice fades away into a murmur. Hans' broad shoulders, decorated with gold epaulets, shine in my eyes. His suit is rather formal for a casual breakfast, but I assume he has a lot of expectations to level with. Even the blinding glimmer of his jacket won't catch the eyes of any of his family. Pity is not a feeling I have often, though I'd guess it would be appropriate now.

His older brothers round the distant corner and adjoin themselves to whatever conversation Hans and Lizbeth. They appear taller than him, much older; however their attitudes towards him reflect immaturely. I can't quite clearly make out which ones they are from this angle. After a couple moments of making idle chat, the two tall men scoff off the little one. He keeps his head up with fake confidence and walks into the room behind him - the dining hall. His brothers turn back and chuckle condescendingly. Assholes.

I've elongated my neck to peer further into the room down the hallway. "..Elsa are you listening to me?!" Irene yells a little too loudly.

I pause, "Yes, Irene." She looks me up and down with a raised eyebrow. Then sighs and shoves me a pair of slim, skin tone gloves. I glance at them, knowing perfectly well these would look abnormal with a nightgown.

"You're requested to sit next to Anna and the most important person here. Tuck the wrist part into your sleeve and keep your hands in your lap as much as possible."

I nod dutifully. Silent I keep.

The room is a dull roar of voices and silverware clangs and sips and laughs. Irene woke up Anna and rushed her around for her to finally take a seat next to me. My babysitter glares at me from across the table and I smirk back at her. I've done that stupid joke before and every time she gets all pissy. "Oh relax, hun." I whisper-say to her playfully, though hinting with dark undertones she doesn't notice.

"Hmm?" King Johann, sitting at the head of the table to my left, perks up, overhearing my statement.

"Oh nothing. How have these days been treating you, your majesty?" I say smoothly.

"Decently, Princess," He replies between sips of milk, "Trading has improved the Southern Isles economy. Though we'll all miss that with your father. He had a keen knack for that sort of business."

Irene, Anna, and I look down at our plates with variants of the same saddened expression. Mine is probably less meaningful than theirs. We realize the room's escalated sound as silence falls on our area of the table.

_My father always had business meetings in his study with several other kings or ambassadors - mostly about trade. Arendelle is famous for it's transport and surplus of ice, lumber, and crawfish, somewhat. Occasionally, he'd be meeting with kingdoms looking to partner or ally with him. He wanted to show that he was humbled, trustworthy, with a healthy, happy family. When this occurred, I was ordered to disappear, in fear of hurting the guests. Mountains of novels and textbooks kept me company, I guess. _

_One time, the people looking to invest had a daughter they brought with them for lunch. I never saw her face, but I heard her giggles. Her and Anna played out in the hallway outside my door for hours. Distant girls laughs called to me as I sat at my desk, reading. Once their cheers reached my eardrums, I perked up and ran to the door. I pressed my ear against the wood and listened to them play. It made me smile to hear such sweet happiness. My gloveless hand absentmindedly reached for the doorknob and I opened it. The two young girls were a couple yards down the hallway, racing around playing tag. The new girl had red hair, frizzy and very curly - it looked so colorful and cheery._

_It felt so wonderful to see them, to see my sister. At this point, it had only been one or two years after the incident. I smiled, held my breath, and started for the two girls. A couple feet in, I'm yanked back by a big hand. I make a "_hughk" _when I suddenly recede backwards. My hands flail up and my mid-stepping foot swings in front of me. Every part of me is trying to reach for the innocent playing girls. More and more distance is put between us until I'm consumed by the isolation of my room, with my mother staring down at me, irritated and pissed. _

"_Elsa you know you can't leave while we have guests!" she reprimands. I look down at my feet and fold my hands in front of me. _

_Tears well up in my eyes, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to play." _

"_You'll be fine, hun. They'll leave in about an hour or so. You have your books and stuff," she stumbles over her words for a few seconds trying to think, "Just don't come out until I say so, okay?" _

_I couldn't hold back the lump in my throat, "Y-yes, mom." My arms cross over each other and hug my shoulders. The mean lady kneels down and puts her hands over mine. _

"_I love you, sweetie," she says, somewhat sympathetically. Her tone isn't as loving as I needed. _

"_I love you too," I manage between sniffles. She grazes my forehead with her lips, attempting to kiss it. Then turns and stands quickly, heading for the door. I watch her leave and shut the door. It was several more hours, well into the evening, before anyone remembered I existed. _

Servants and chefs waltz in and out of the dining room with more food or taking empty plates. Lizbeth takes her seat again next to Irene. She's gotten up three times to leave my view through the hallway door behind me. She'd be gone for a couple minutes then come back. I'm the only one who seems to notice.

The brunette pulls in her chair and shoots a distraught glance at the king, who returns a serious stare. They simultaneously look away and dress themselves with indifferent but pleasant expressions. One of the children at her left (my right) call her attention and she leans to tend to it.

I catch Irene staring at me in between replying to the conversation she's supposed to be holding with Anna. Her eyes match Anna's direction, then move to me, then bounce to the space between Anna and I, then back to me, then her plate. Her muscles are tense just like her face. She drags her fork around through a pool of food she isn't eating.

I think the man sitting to my left formulated a question for Anna and she word vomits some bullshit. Irene keeps glaring at me and then my side and I squint at her, confused. I glance down at where she was hinting at and saw pale blue against a white table cloth. It dresses my skirt, making it look like I fell in a snowbank. It starts to glimmer in the light as it crawls to the tabletop. My heart stops. The king and my sister keep chatting without seeing it, thank god. Immediately, I pull my hands away from that side and fold them to my left, checking and rechecking the sturdiness of these stupid gloves.

The stupid girl next to me leans closer to me/the king, as they talk. "...don't know where it came from, I just-" Anna trails in, only to be cut off by her own, "Oh huhg!" Her unintelligible noise is heard by several of the people down the table. They look up as she continues to say, "Oh, sorry, something felt really cold against the table."

"I'm sorry, I think I dropped a bit of water there earlier," I try.

"Really? I don't see anyth-"

I reach for the place without thinking and it takes too long an awkward moment to answer as she stares at my hand. "I'll just rub it dry here." I stay with that and rub the white cloth with my napkin. Snow shaves off at the sides and I lean in to do anything to hide it. Anna's eyes linger for a moment but then dart away to speak with someone else, whom I'm too worried to notice. King Johann looks over to me for a moment, with a concerned expression. Concerned for me, really.

Irene folds her arms on the table and watches me. The snow is almost gone but some still leaves darkened watery patches that won't dry. Fuck. I drive the napkin furiously into the fabric until it starts to rip but nothing comes out of it except for damp paper. I _hmph_ back against my chair and keep my eye on the stain, as if it's going anywhere. My leg starts to shake and I tap my foot. I lean back and forth in my chair, turning or holding onto the seat. Nothing is comfortable. I decide to stand up, letting the cushioned chair push back behind me. "Excuse me for a moment," I say, beginning to walk towards the hallway. The stares burn into my back, my face is on fire. A bit of silence falls on that half of the table, then is broken once I am out of sight.

Somehow, I manage not to scream until I find a closet off to the side, down an unpopulated hallway. It's contents smell of cleaning solutions and mucky water. The door squeezes shut and I'm packed in on top of a bucket, resting my head against a mop behind me, crowded by soaps and towels and dust pans. Tears dampen my cheeks and pieces of stray hairs stick to the wet skin, criss-crossing over some of my eyelashes. Little light illuminates the compact space, only from the crack underneath the door. I feel at home in the blackness. Its shadows warm me, embrace me with security as I self-loathe. _Stupid fucking stupid just stop fucking stupid fuck her fucking fuck. _

Images of Anna's lightly freckled face dance around my thoughts. The cutest button nose. She sends whiplashes when she bats her eyes and chills when she laughs. I despise and adore her. My hand slams against the wall repeatedly until it stings.

I shake my head until all the thoughts fall out and seep into the cracks of the floorboards. My nails pinch some arm skin until I feel a little engraving in my flesh. I keep doing it all the way up my arm until it's a little row of them. This is the first time I notice this bucket is getting colder and slathers of frost climb the wall. The very dim light stretches to brighten the coldness on the wall panel next to me. A part of me doesn't care anymore. I just stare at it, unblinking, phased and melted into the fabric of time that it takes to engulf the wall. It sneaks around a shelf and reaches the ceiling to form small icicles above me. Another tear tumbles down my cheek again. It allows a sort of release of tension.

A wave of fatigue washes over me, and I nod off to the faint sound of blood rushing behind my ears and frost settling around me.

"...Elsa?" some voice questions outside the door. "Miss Elsa?" they continue. More people make more sound that disrupt my nap.

"I can't find her anywhere!" a woman exclaims outside the door.

A masculine sigh comes afterwards, then, "We'll keep looking, she couldn't have gone far." There's some silence that follows. I hold my breath when the doorknob jiggles. A gush of air dispersion whirls around when Irene wings the door open to find my limp self propped up against the wall, probably looking like a trash heap. The light shrivels me into a ball. She gasps angrily and slams the door shut again.

I just realized I have no idea how long it's been since I left the table and I look like an idiot. "Did you see any sign of her?" my nanny sternly asks some people who reply that they have no idea where I could be. She tells them to go look upstairs again; their footsteps grow quieter until it's silent. Irene sighs sharply and yanks the door open again. I look up at her wearily, but with an indifferent expression. Part of me is scared to death and another part just doesn't care.

"The hell are you doing in here, Elsa!?" she yell-whispers at me, grabbing me by my arm. I hit my head on the shelf, but she keeps pulling. The bright light feels too harsh and foreign for my liking. I'm dragged through the intense illumination, up the stairs and thrown into the guest bedroom I'm sharing with a cunt. "What were you doing in that closet for three fucking hours Elsa?!" she barks after slamming the door.

I rub my eye, stretch, and run my fingers through my hair before replying. "Sleeping, I guess." My demeanor is a lot more relaxed than appropriate.

"We were worried sick about you! Why the hell were you even in there!" she continues but my mind is elsewhere.

"Why did you wait until those people were gone to open the door again?" My eyes are still squinty, adjusting to the light. My voice is a tad raspy.

She glares at me a minute and then gestures to all of me, "Just look at yourself." I assess the damage, which there is much of. Several odd stains decorate the skirt of my dress and some on the top and sleeves. My bangs are frayed and bent awkwardly. Snow is smeared down the right half of my dress.

"So?"

"Elsa! Jesus christ, this trip is really important! You need to look and act as dutiful and respectful as possible."

"Why is it all of a sudden my responsibility to be here?!"

"Because it would've been your father's job!" she yells, then sighs a minute and slows down. "Elsa, these other countries looked up to your parents as a strong ally. They ruled well. A lot of them are struggling, heavily. They don't have anywhere to turn at times. And they also are the entirety of our source of food, money, clothes, things like that." I look down at my feet as she talks on, folding my arms. She breathes audibly for a moment. "These places need allies, just like us. It's all very fragile right now, we have to be very cautious about this. If we lose them, we lose everything." Her words echo around the room and bounce around in my skull. The stern sound stings my chest and holds air in my throat. All I can do is stare at the floor and process. The floor crystallizes beneath me; I point my foot out and lightly test the slickness of the ice, keeping all of my pieces together and compact as Irene watches me. One of my hands has worked it's way up to my collarbone, tracing the bumps back and forth, feeling the surface of cold skin.

The mean lady walks toward me and tells me she loves me and to keep myself together and "respectable". I ponder this word. It means to act in a way which is amiable to others. Normally it calls for formality and grace, perfection. The door opens and shuts behind me. A symphony of silence plays around the room. My image of respectable has always been boring and quiet and sitting up straight, balancing novels on heads while walking, using big words, not having dark magic within you that has come to consume you. Respectable is being infuriated, with homicidal tendencies, but swallowing everything to maintain a charming outward image.

A piercing scream is heard around the property, ringing the ears of whomever is near. Some time passes before the origin of the shriek is noticed by me. My throat is sore.


	11. Crumbling World

"Okay hun, that'll be 3€."

"Oh, uh, I don't have that."

"You don't?"

The young boy shakes his head. He looks to be about six years of age, with obviously weak arms and a shriveling stomach. Reluctantly, he looks up at the produce vender worried. A lip quivering.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I can't give you those apples for free. Can I please have them back?" the woman leans over the counter of the stall and extends her hand down towards the child. He examines the fruit, thinking about running with it, but knows it would be a bigger mess of trouble than he's already in. The entire time I've been in town, this little boy, along with some other children, have been going around to every single merchant, looking for the cheapest food they could scavenge. But they haven't been able to afford any of it.

The small handed boy places the four apples he held against his bony body in the woman's strong, plump hands. I can see very little pity in her eyes, but she still watches as the kid wraps his arm around his stomach and slowly carries on to the next stall.

Snowflakes gently float down and whirl around in the paved street. It's not sticking yet but it will soon - seasons in this part of the world always seem to change fast. The sky is a light grey, squiggled with rays of dull sunlight. Clumps of frozen water land and melt on my hood, seeping through to my hair.

"Hey lady!" the man behind the stall I'm standing in front of yells at me. I've been mesmerized by the little boy for at least twenty minutes.

"Yes?" I reply indifferently, looking at him as a deer in the forest would, hearing the crunch of twigs from a sniper close by.

"Are you buying something or..?" His tone is clearly irritated. I glance down at the fish meat sitting in shallow boxes filled with ice. Some are sliced, some are shaved of their scales. Others are just tails or heads. I try not to physically grimace at the sight. The man clears his throat and taps his fingers against the wooden counter, glaring at me.

"Sorry, just looking," I utter with a monotone voice, afterwards turning to avoid his judgemental eyes. I take a couple steps forward to stand out in the square, feeling the snow on my face. My gaze rolls to the little boy, who is wobbling in the cold, barely dressed in anything besides some rags. He is a walking skeleton with a heart beat. Suddenly, he convulses over and kneels down and coughs uncontrollably. Soon enough, blood mixes into the other fluids he's spewing up. His hand grasps the frosty ground, centering his balance. The painful sounds echo around the plaza. There are at least thirty people around conversing, none notice the severely ailing boy.

There's a fountain in the center of the lot that babbles quietly. I snatch a tip jar from a random merchant's booth, quickly dumping out it's monetary contents, and dash to the fountain. I fill the jar from the pool at the bottom of the man-made spring, then run it over to the wheezing child. Some people look up from their idle chats, but none seem to care. They look as if this happens regularly, and the sound of a dying boy is, not only ordinary, but an annoying inconvenience to their nonchalant, privileged lives.

The beggar boy is just about to collapse onto the ground when I swoop underneath him with one arm and prop him up, sort of cradling him while I crouch down to his level. His head rests against my forearm - one leg bent up, the other has extended out limply - my hand holds onto his shoulder. I carry the jar up to his lips, tilting it carefully. One of his dainty hands pushes the bottom up so water overflows his mouth and splashes down his face and neck to stain his ragged, sleeveless shirt. With both hands, he grabs the jar and gulps down the cool liquid until every drop has been either consumed or spilled out.

I clutch the child tightly, examining the watery, red stains on his tunic. Tangled knots matt his light brown hair. He gasps for more air and breathes deeply, occasionally rubbing his face with dirt ridden hands. The little boy whom I've never met looks up at me with the biggest brown eyes as if I have caressed him like this since the day he was born. He smiles and I smile back. "You're okay, it's okay now," I murmur to him, beginning to slowly rock him and pull him towards my chest. He nuzzles in, comfortably.

"Hey! You there!" an average woman's voice hollers from behind. "What the hell was that!? That's my tip jar, you bastard!"

I hike up the boys fragile legs so they rest lightly over my other arm. He weakly reaches his right arm over to grip my opposing shoulder. I stand and turn around to face an angry middle aged lady. "I left the money over there," I calmly gesture over to her stall with all of her tips in a pile on the bar top, "You can take the jar back now."

"Why the fuck did you take it, asshole? All my money could've been stolen or blown away!?"

"But it didn't. I was trying to help this young boy, whom you clearly didn't mind if his body was left for the birds." I attempt to steady myself and control the rage building inside, though it's slipping. I look down at my hand to remember I have my grey gloves.

"So what? He has no family, and he bothers everyone around here! No one would have missed him!"

"If you all had a heart or any sort of concern for someone besides yourselves, he wouldn't have to beg for resources every day." The woman is taken aback by my snap, then her eyebrows furrow and she starts to come at me. A wave of panic rushes about my body and I stumble backwards, trying to maintain dignity.

"No listen here, you little shit! You and that little brat can get the fuck out of here or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what!?" I stomp furiously. She halts in her tracks, then her eyes look at the boy and she gasps, throwing her hands over her mouth. My expression molds into confusion. I glance down at the child in my arms whose shoulder is now bloomed with frost down his arm in intricate swirls and patterns. It crawls out from under where my hand as been squeezing. The carmel skin underneath the crystals goes pale. He notices this and leaps out of my arms, leaving me pulled forward wanting to keep him safe, but I am a monster to him now - not a mother.

"What have you done!? Get out, you witch!" the woman barks. "Now! Leave us!" Others have circled around and seen the boys shoulder, as he cowers in fear, ducked under his arms several feet behind the infuriated lady in front of me. I look around panting in fear. A breeze blows through a discrete hole in the palm of my glove - one big enough for destruction to fit through.

The boy is shaking from the coldness, keeping one hand on his shoulder and the other over his head. I shove the lady out of the way and run over to the child. As soon as he feels my presence, he jumps away and breaks through the crowd of people. "Wait!" I try, though it won't matter. I'm left alone on the ground; a helpless wild animal that no one dares to touch. Many gasp or yell variants of the same angered phrases. The noise turns white like the snow.

My eyes rim with cold water while I turn and run to the pier. The crowd parts, making way for me. Frozen snowflakes fall on my trail in the place of tears. Around some buildings, dodging people and horses and coach cars, the crashing waves beckon me. Luckily none of these people have recognized the girl crying and running away from cusses and broken hearts.

The water hushes and drowns out the sounds of my sorrows and sobs. Thumps sound at an even tempo when my boots hit the wood pier. Some steps creak underneath me, but I keep running until I get to the wooden barrier, at the end of the structure holding me high above a watery grave. The snow picks up with the volume of my whimpers. Wind whirls around me, blowing my hood off and picking up the tide. "No no no no no not right now no please!" I exclaim, pressing my hands against the sides of my head, hoping that my arm strength will push out all my demons. "NO stop Please!" Nothing slows down, the snow moves in a blur, clouds darken above me. I'm hobbled over on the floor, gripping the railing.

All I can think about is that little boy. I destroyed everything before I even learned his name. What the fuck is wrong with me! Kill me just kill me now and everything would be okay! That boy is gonna fucking freeze to death because of me!

My lips wet with tears and melting snowflakes, I murmur into the wind "I'm sorry." Maybe the message will be sent to all those I've hurt and all I have ruined. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I hiccup between sobs, grasping at the bittercold air. The railing freezes solid at my next touch. It spreads so fast. All I am is destruction and death. "I'm sorry."

I look up fiercely, out into the ocean. My teeth grind and my nails dig into the wood. That beggar boy is never going to get a chance to see the sunlight again. His last image will be of a dark, cold sky, fading away until there is nothing. Just like nothing would change if I didn't exist.

Sea water sprays at me, and the mist solidifies on impact of my skin. I push myself up onto the railing and sit on the slippery surface edge. My feet dangle freely just below me. The ocean appears to be thirty-five feet below the deck, and below zero degrees. One could quickly perish from the plunge. _**I**_ could quickly perish from the plunge. I watch the water fold over itself as it smashes against the pillars.

Wind blows my bangs over themselves. The water looks like a final hug you give before someone leaves. The kind that lingers and keeps you warm. It invites me closer. I scootch forward. I wonder about my nanny, what she would say if I didn't come back at sundown like I promised. I wonder if she would be relieved. "I'm sorry, Irene," _you won't be burdened anymore. _

My upper body hangs over the edge, staring in the face of death with a relaxed smile. Through the windy snow swirling around, the water is a deep blue, almost black. It devours the souls of monsters, whose evil darkens the color with every jump. Those souls are free now. "And so am I," I utter. My last words.

"Stop!" I hear in the distance. I'm not sure where from, but I quickly disregard it. There is less of the beam underneath me; this shell is teetering.

"Stop! Elsa!" okay that I definitely hear. The flakes move too fast for me to see this stranger on the pier behind me.

"Go away!" I yell back, unsure of what else would work or if my voice was strong enough to talk.

"Don't do this!" The voice sounds masculine and familiar.

"This isn't your concern! Leave!" I grip the railing with all my strength, squeezing my eyes shut and gulping painfully.

"Elsa please!" He sounds closer behind me, I feel a skipped thump in my chest. It scares me that he knows my name.

"Whoever you are just go away!" I scream at the horizon. My hand comes up to wipe my cheek of tear streaks.

"Take a deep breath and think about what you're doing." The voice is calming - reassuring.

I breathe in and hold onto the air. It feels cold in my lungs. "Please just-" I pause, caught in thought. _You're still a monster, you know._ "Just go."

"No Elsa I can't do that-"

"I said, JUST GO!" My now ungloved hand flings back. Something cold feels like it's leaving my palm. I'm not necessarily worried anymore.

Apparently this mysterious man isn't hit because he says, "I'm not leaving without you, Elsa."

"Yes you are." My muscles free themselves of all tension as I fall forward, eyes closed with the last intake of air. Everything is free. All there is is the peaceful crash of waves. A merciful end. There is no more suffering for anyone. The gift of my absence unleashes warmth to the land.

Without my knowledge, I am tugged hard by my arm, jerking me back up. The salty spray licks at my feet. When I am pulled, my shoes slip off down to my destination. I look up at Hans clutching my forearm, hunched over the icy beam. My eyes are cold; his eyes are concerned. He struggles to hold my pathetic body. "Let me go," I wine, feeling an inch of pity for myself, like a cranky child begging his mother for a toy. Or a beggar boy I failed to save from death.

"No Elsa, it will be okay." Through the boards of the railing, I notice the snow has halted. It now pauses mid-air around us. My splashes of coldness still decorate the boardwalk.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a monster." I gesture to the pier almost completely frozen over.

"Everything will be okay." He looks me square in the eyes when he says this. No one else repeating that to me has ever stared inside me. The real me. Not the burden which lies around us. "Everything is gonna be okay, Elsa," the man tells me again, not looking away for a moment. Maybe he doesn't know what else would help, but he's genuinely trying. Suddenly there is no more coldness inside me. A twinge of heat ignites. I believe him. My other hand reaches up to hold on to his wrist. We maneuver ourselves so we grasp each others arms, interlocking hands at first. With all of his muscle, he starts to pull me up. I pick up my legs to land my feet on the outer edge of the pier's deck. The two of us yank and hoist me up.

After some wiggling and climbing, I reach the frosted floor, lying down and gasping harshly for air. We lay here for some time, unspeaking. Hans eventually sits up and moves to lean his back against the side railing. He looks at my heaving body and waits until he's caught his breath to speak. "Are you okay?"

The question is unexpected to me. Usually if I do something stupid, I'm ridiculed and scolded endlessly. Now I'm actually cared about. "I'm fine," I respond after a couple hesitant seconds. I truly do mean it.

"Good," - he pauses to brush his hair back and dust himself off - "Why did you want to do that?" His look changes to curious with a hint of frustrated. I open my mouth to tell him why, but I think better of it. _Don't air your dirty laundry, Elsa, _my mother would tell me while practicing etiquette when I was young. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me." I sort of shrug and run my fingers through my hair, pushing my bangs back over my head.

Struggling, I sit up and wrap my arms around my legs, turning to face Hans. He stares at me curiously as I talk, "How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you running by when I was sitting on one of the benches down there," he points to the other end of the pier. I just noticed the snow has stopped falling, "So I followed you. You didn't seem okay and... you weren't, obviously." I stare at him curiously, not sure if I should thank him.

"Th-", the words fail me a moment, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He sort of smiles. I try to remember when was the last time I saw anyone sincerely smile. The same spark of that elated something shines in his eye again. It's so hopeful. Like everything really will be okay.

"When you said you came to the pier, I thought you'd come on better weathered days," I joke, smiling too.

"Eh, snow never hurt anyone." Haha.

"True enough, it wasn't too cold yet anyways. Why do you come here though?"

"I don't know. The ocean is calming," he looks out over the water through the beams. The sky looks a tad darker than it did when I was in town. "It's so natural and quiet." I nod in agreement, trying to find where he is looking. His eyes bounce with the slowing waves. The clouds have parted more, exposing slivers of sunlight across the deck, and the young man's grey wool jacket. It's unbuttoned, showing a lighter grey dress shirt underneath. Another ray of light slashes over his broad jawline. He seems to be enjoying the silence. I can see the gears turning as he observes the water. I let him be for a little while until he speaks again, "What brought you into town?"

_It was somewhere far away from the everyone else. _"Change of scenery." _Close enough_.

"I get that." He shrugs a shoulder and nods in understanding. "I come here just to get away from my dad and Lizbeth," - he shifts urgently, realizing the impact of his statement - "I mean, don't get me wrong, they are good people, they just..." A hand raises to the back of his neck, looking for the right structure of words.

"Are they perfectionists?" I guess.

"Well... yeah. Feels like it anyways. And if we aren't perfect then..." Pain increases in his expression.

"I get it," I interrupt his thought. He half smiles, eyes brighten. The thicker clouds finally part and I feel the warm sun on my cheek. It's illumination highlights my stray, imperfect hairs I had forgotten about. I scramble to pull it all back again into a dainty braid, though it's too frizzy and wet to do anything with, so my arms drop in my lap. A gush of salty air blows my bangs over again, apparently in a comical enough condition for Hans to chuckle at me. "Oh shut up!" I tease him, pushing the punchline back in a pin to the side.

"Calm down. I don't get to see anyone messy ever," he smirks, "I like it when there's an actual human side to people."

_Human side. _"Yeah, me too." Passed his charming features, water drips from the wood. Some drops slide into each other, only to crash and plummet down to the sea. I watch as sunlight reflects through the melting crystals around us. It dances and glimmers in the liquid of my being. Normally when comparing one's being as "melting," it sounds negative; however, this is such a good feeling to have, I never want it to stop. _There's warmth inside me for once. _

"Haha yeah, the whole thing!" I laugh hysterically as Hans sloppily stuffs the other half of a beignet in his mouth. Powdered sugar dusts his lips and parts of his cheeks. He muffle-laughs with the warm pastry blocking his food hole. I'm still nibbling on my half, pulling off bits and pieces as I desire them. My lungs remind me to fill them with air after expelling out the last of my supply on this man walking beside me down the pier.

We reach the end of the boardwalk and walk over to one of the benches in the grass to the side. They sit on a short, grassy elevation - lined with palm trees - over looking the beach by about a foot and a half. Trees whisper behind us as we recline in the closest bench to the pier. The finished wood feels wet on my back. I suck it up and observe the bright scene in front of us. Sand stretches for at least a mile down. Pier legs step far out into the ocean, occasionally splashed by seaweedy water. I soon notice dark rocks around the base of the far end ones. How would it have felt to hit them from forty feet above?

I break my distant stare and look over at Hans, who is still dressed in white powder and flaky dough. "You've got some sugar on your-" I laugh, trailing off at the end to brush off the pastry remanence dusting his cheek. "On...your...There." I giggle cutely and the corner of his mouth sticks up a little too long as he looks down at me. _Don't be awkward._

"Thanks for that, and for the food," he tells me. I pull away from his gaze.

"No problem," I respond politely. Waves taste the shoreline with foam around the edges. The wind dances my hair into my face, but I don't mind the warm breeze. Once we started walking towards the bakers booth, I had pulled the elastic out of my braid and let my hair down. It felt nice. Hans makes me feel nice inside. These last few hours with him almost made me feel like life is bearable.

But it sorta feels wrong. Like it shouldn't be this way. Like it's against some rule that I feel obligated to follow. My stomach turns. I keep my eye on the outer waves, way out in the ocean. Thoughts appear of a ship engulfed in the water, surrounded by dark clouds and a freezing cold sea. _You're still a monster, you know. _

Some time passes, I don't know how much, but not a lot. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the gears in his head turning again. He looks around kind of anxiously, then back at me. I can tell he wants to ask me something, but I continue acting like I don't see him.

Hans opens his mouth to say something, then falls just short of sound. Finally after a moment, "So I've been curious... what was the deal with the ice back on the pier?"

Briefly, my heart skips some beats and I hold my breath. "Uhm... well..." I start.

"I mean, I know it came from you."

"Wait, what?"

"I figured that out on my own, don't worry," - his head turns toward the end of the pier and he squints with the sun in his eyes - "Just wondering about it. It seems kind of...tricky? Is that right word?" He looks at me, genuinely concerned. I'm afraid to say the wrong thing.

"I guess so." We both can tell there's a lot of pain in my voice that I am trying desperately to cover up with strength. "It's been complicated."

"Since when?"

"I can't think of a time without it, actually."

"What does it feel like?" I breathe out sharply at his question, pondering every word in the english language that could possibly be useful. I've never been asked this kind of thing before.

"I don't know... it just feels like coldness leaving my hand. It moves... through me, I guess."

"That sounds cool. No pun intended." He throws out a couple 'Ha ha's and I force a weak chuckle. But my throat is sore when despair sneaks up and smothers my shred of happiness. Hans notices me biting my lip and looking over down the beach. "I like it, anyways."

_Hold up. _"_Like _it?" I question his sanity.

"Well yeah, having magic powers seems really astonishing... Interesting." I just sort of stare at him while he talks, I don't know how to put my feelings into mature words, so I don't.

"How the hell is it 'interesting'!?" I exclaim, standing up, infuriated.

"Wha-"

"I have hurt people with this shit, Hans! I've ruined everything I cared about, and you call it _**COOL?!**_"

"I'm sorr-"

"No! You don't fucking get it, do you? This _curse_, fucking disgusting _thing_ has destroyed everything! It's destroyed my life, everything! You won't ever understand how that feels because you and everyone in that castle," - I flail my hand towards the pointy building hidden behind several layers of forest and streets and town and more greenery - "will be able to live happily and free and shit and I am stuck being hated and babysat because no one can ever trust me on my own with this!" Coldness leaks out of my hands like when you open a freezer on a hot day. Still pissed, I look down and then immediately clutch my hands to my chest. There is a moment of painful silence. "I need gloves," I jitter, shaking. As irritated as I am, this is more important.

"Take mine," he flicks his gloves at me quickly, understanding right away the priority. I look at him curiously as I pull on these sort-of-big, grey gloves; he watches my hands jumble to get them on right. Afterwards, I still hold them close to me, just in case.

No one has ever understood this part of me so rapidly before. Nor has anyone called it cool. My heart sinks as I look at this wonderfully unique man. I purse my lips before I apologize quietly to him for being a bitch. "Don't apologize," he tells me.

_What?_ "What? But-"

"You clearly are dealing with some stuff that I don't get all the way. You're right. It was rude of me to assume it was fun or easy. I'm sorry." _What._

"A-are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure, Elsa." His grin makes my knees weak. Hans stands and comes to me. He wraps his arms around me while I'm still hugging my hands to my body. My mouth just barely kisses his shoulder in the process. I'm still very confused, but I let this happen. He feels so warm, like his chest is a christmas fireplace. I snuggle closer to him and enjoy the embrace. For whatever reason, small tears run down my face. My head rests in the pool of salty water, but I don't mind. I am at peace in this lovely man's arms. "Thank you," I murmur through the urge to sob.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."


	12. Ashes, Ashes

"We should head back before it gets too dark," Hans tells me, reaching out his hand to escort my rattled soul gently. There's a sinking feeling in my chest. I want today to be longer. It can't end yet.

"Fine," I sigh, "but can we go slow? I wanna enjoy the outdoors before I leave." Tomorrow is our departure from Southern Isles. Today was almost my departure from the earth. These last couple days were so uneventful, I could have slept through all of it, and I've tried. Today was the only day I could have snuck out and tasted the outdoors freely. It can't end now.

"Well it's not like you can't enjoy them when you get back home." We begin to saunter away from the pier and towards the bundle of buildings through the thin layer of trees.

"You'd be surprised how little I get to leave my room." I rub the back of my hand with my other and Hans looks down at them, remembering.

"...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I know. Still, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Trees and waves hush and woosh, whispering unintelligible things I try to understand. My heart sinks more, so I change the subject. "Are you gonna be okay when we leave?"

"What's gonna change?"

"You're family having to act nice in front of guests." I can imagine his family isn't so fruity when alone. At breakfast, there was liquor on the king's breath. Though that's not necessarily uncommon to drink, but it's strange at eight in the morning.

He shrugs and looks away in thought, "Yeah, I guess." I watch him a moment: he keeps his eyes on the pavement and gently kicks pebbles in front of him. This man seems broken, looking for something to glue the pieces back together. And some pieces are lost, some won't stick back. At this time, I notice a small blue-ish shade on Hans's temple. The faded patch doesn't look like ink or dirt; it resembles the shade of distrust and manipulation. I can't bare to watch him anymore.

We continue onto the tiled road that we both eventually had come down today. It runs into the town and then along some side streets. Some people walk by me and I'm thankful they don't call me out on earlier. I don't think anyone truly saw my face well enough in town for it to be ingrained into their minds like the image of the boogieman is to children. My hood had fallen off in the wind earlier and I'm carrying my caped-coat over my arms - my hands stay hidden underneath. For a second, the free air on the skin of my palms worries me, but my gloves fell off the pier long ago; I have to live with it. _Practice._

After several minutes of taciturn conversation, I sort of hum to myself "This feels nice," letting all my air out in the process. My lungs reverse sigh, taking in all the sounds of wind, smells of warm grasses, giggles of children. I hold it all inside, letting everything soak into the bones and tissues and blood that make up me. "I wish it could be like this all the time."

"Me too," he breathes wistfully. I look over to a man who wants to hug the sun, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. It glimmers in his hair and shines off a metal chain around his neck so his head looks like it's floating on light. A puddle, about the size of my foot, shows in front of me, and so I leap and splash the legs of the blissful man. He jerks forward and wipes off the bottom of his coat. "Hey!" he exclaims in playful anger. I laugh at him and run ahead as he tries to grab me. "You're such an ass!" He chases me; I look back and he grins in determination.

"Whatever!" I taunt him, laughing. He catches up to me but I speed further ahead again, ducking under tents and gazebos, around sharp turns and bodies too slow for my pace. Pretty soon I'm running because I feel great slicing through the air; agile when I just barely miss a low hanging awning; free when I'm not being told to slow down. But there is also a teasing fear of being caught by the creep behind me. After going for so long, I'm too far ahead for him to see me sneak behind the side of the church. I hide against the wall, grass tickling my ankles. There are quiet footsteps in the grass coming from where I came. Soon the broad shouldered brunette slows down from the run as he just passes the corner next to me. I sneak forward and yank him back by his shoulder, seceding into the summer shadow again, laughing.

Hans smirks at me and his mouth slides to the side in a half smile, eyes squinting, like one would look at a little girl who wants to play tag. And her father would go after her with that same grin, telling her "Oh I'm gonna getchya!" And I would run faster ahead in joy and terror. He pushes my shoulder back lightly while I'm giddy with excitement and pride. My gasping for air feels pleasant when not anxiety induced.

Once we've caught our breath, we head up the narrow parkway back to the tall, pointy building housing our greatest fears. I look at him and he looks at me as we both breathe in sharply and walk inside. The castle is quiet. Hans tells me a lot of his siblings have already gone to their own homes, except for his eldest brother and sister and the ones who still live here like him. Most of them want to be anywhere but here, "Dad doesn't express his emotions just to me…"

"I'm sorry," I say with a lack of better responses. After giving our jackets to the doormen, we wander down the hallway. In the silence, I start to think about Lizbeth, following the previous pattern of King Johann's relationships. She's so fragile and petite, but stands regally and confidently. I worry she won't last long, but I shove that idea out of my head.

At the end of the long hall that connects to most of the rooms, Irene and Aliya round the corner of the split. She realizes it's me staring at her in the distance and starts toward me. I slow down in preparation for her blows or whips, but as she gets closer, I see her happy expression. Her arms wave excitedly until she gets within talking distance. "Elsa! You missed it! Oh my gosh it was so cute, follow me!" she squeals, grabbing my hand to drag me back down the hall. I glance at Hans who is a little bit behind with Aliya escorting him, less enthusiastically.

We arrive in a library where there are several somewhat familiar faces standing around talking. The king and his motherly partner snuggle close on a long arm chair. They both look up at us smiling; Lizbeth's face is brighter than usual, but still looks tired. The small lady mumbles something to her clinging male friend, then gets up and walks over to me. "Oh I wish you could've been here, Elsa!" she exclaims smiling widely, "He proposed to me!"

I recoil a tad as a result of her closeness and from her statement, "Wow, Lizbeth, I'm happy for you both." She starts talking about how they are going to announce it tomorrow and how she wishes we could stay for it and on and on. Irene puts a hand on Lizbeth's shoulder. She turns back to her and they walk off over to a corner to chat with some of the children. Everyone in the room doesn't seem nearly as excited as Irene or Lizbeth. They all stand uncomfortably with arms folded or shifting weight from leg to leg.

I look back to where the sound of Hans' boots clunk behind in the doorway. "Did you here?" I say indifferently. I want to match his emotion, but he's so hard to read. He's staring blankly around the room, not moving anything but his pupils. There's so much pressure behind his head to do something - to cry, to scream, to talk, to smile, to frown - but he is paralyzed.

"I'll miss her," he murmurs loud enough for me to hear, though he doesn't seem to care if I'm the only one. The small woman giggles over on the other side of the sea. Her and the other girls all talk smiles, sweet and contrite like nothing could ever be wrong. I watch her dress sway back and forth and turn. Hans sighs like he's giving up air.

"What do you mean?" I question, half knowing the answer.

"Dad's just anxious for another kid." Oh.

Everyone else in the room, pardon a few, know what's gonna happen to her. This is a farewell party. Lizbeth catches me staring at her and waves kindly to me. I don't wave back. I can't. She interjects back into her group's conversation after staying on the sideline, saying a quick something, then departs and leaves the room. Her group looks at each other in a way that I wouldn't have imagined the Giddy Girls to look. They know why she's leaving and are scared to seem upset about it but totally and completely are, apart from Irene, who has never tracked the pattern of events in this fucked up family. Though that's her expertise - to notice small things or see habits of others. I can't be in the room anymore.

After awkwardly bumping into Hans when turning back to the hallway, I dart to the bathroom. It's locked, but I keep jiggling the handle. My anxiety is flaring up like a rash, or a fireplace being fanned. Lizbeth's voice says something unintelligible on the other side so I stop breaking the knob. I back away from the door and wait uneasily. Finally, she appears from the other side. "Sorry hun, I just have a little afternoon-morning sickness." She speaks like nothing is wrong in the world.

"From?"

"Oh, the baby! Guess I didn't tell you." All I can manage is an indifferent oh it's fine, congratulations. I don't know what would make her see what's going on, but would anything I say or do matter?

"Thanks!" The dying lady skips back to the ballroom while I fall on the floor and let the tiles eat me up. They say I taste good.

Hans comes out into the hall, like he's reading my mind. Bring me back before right now. Or before the engagement. Before Lizbeth got knocked up. Before I hurt that boy. Before I was born. "I'm tired," I tell Hans. I don't care for standing anymore and if I could, I'd drop on the floor and see if the tiles are still hungry.

"Let's go upstairs." He comes over and unnecessarily escorts me up to the second floor. We pass my guest bedroom and I tell him that was my room, but he pulls me along until we get to the third floor staircase. I pocket my eyes so Hans becomes my guide that I rest my head on. He feels like a pillow. This stranger isn't like a brother to me. Or a lover. He is a bed. He's blankets and sheets and cushions and softness and warmth. If I lost him, I'd lose the only comfortable place in the world. I'm not ecstatic to see him. But I'd be anxious without him. His presence is like how roofs need walls to hold them up. If I were to fall in his arms, it would be like plopping in bed after an exhausting day. You don't thank a bed. You don't think about a bed until it's there. But hell you would miss it.

I pop my eyes back into place when Hans turns to shut his bedroom door behind him. The only thing in the world is his bed. I'm out of the energy to talk or move my eyes. He helps me over to it, but I'd feel bad for sleeping in it. It's rude. So I muster up enough of me to sit on the edge of the mattress rather than laying down. He sits next to me and watches me stare at my knees. My eyelids droop slowly. Would he question my sudden decision to sleep on his shoulder? Is he going to question my fatigue? Not that I'd answer with anything a normal person could understand. But he isn't a normal person. "Why are we in your room?" I breathe, letting my head fall on him.

"Where would you be more comfortable?" he says contently.

_In your arms would be nice_. I don't love him. I just need to be held. If I cry, I need someone who wouldn't mind the stains. If I snuggle closer, they won't mind the leech on their side. If I wrap myself around them like ivy, they'll hold me tighter so I don't fall. "I don't care, but I can't go anywhere but here." My head rests in his chest. His hand is on my shoulder. I like it there. I slow the pace of my heart and let the world melt around us. Sleep has consumed me.

_A meadow filled with white and purple flowers - pansies maybe. The tree line wrapping all around is bright green. Sounds of birds chirping and animals talking. A sun, any sun, beats down against a blue sky. There is also a lavender color moon opposite the perfect star. I'm stripped of my gloves, my hair is free, and I'm in my mothers floral dress. Not the one I stole - the one I can't actually recall her ever wearing, but it just feels like her. The her before she gave up on me. It's all white with a tiny pink and yellow pattern. Sitting, letting grass lick my legs while I lean against Hans' back behind me. I don't have to look to know it's him. My head rests against his. We prop each other up, sharing equal support and equal effort. All we focus on is our lungs expanding and shrinking. The air sprinkles my insides with flowers and color. _

_Something darts across the vision of my half closed eyes. Somewhere just before the trees, a dark, feminine apparition appears and disappears from left to right. Right to left. Closer, more defined than not. In some clothes I've never seen her wear. My sister? Something tells me I should panic so I do. Hans do something. What's going on? _

_I fall backwards in the sudden absence of my bolstering friend. The grass dies and shrivels up, refusing to house the suns heat. I am cold. Anna runs over me and into the woods, leaving behind a trail of something red. Where is Hans. There is no beautiful sun, only a blue moon directly above. Clouds circle around to cast out any shred of light. _

_The monster steps above me, this time it resembles Irene. Her eyes are red. Only red. No pupil or specks of green. Red. She tries to come closer over me but I roll out of the way before she can. The red stuff across my stomach is warm. Feels like blood. I jump up and wipe myself clean, stopping short to run from Anna coming at me. _

_The ground freezes underneath me. Hans appears in a reflection beside mine in the ice, but he is long gone. The tree's are replaced with shattered mirror pieces, all showing my gasping, terrified face. Anna's red eyes shine behind me in the tree-mirrors. I duck down - out of breath, out of energy to try - and wait to be devoured. A growl. Snaps. Shatters. Crunches. My eyes stay shut until I'm tapped on the shoulder. _

"_What are you doing, Elsa?" Irene asks with soft, human eyes. We stand in a small room that feels like home. That same thing tells me to be happy so I am. I forget about, whatever just happened. "Come here hun, there's nothing to be afraid of." I leap into her arms. She holds me tight. I'm safe. "Except for... yourself…" her voice declines, sliding into hell. I look up from her warm-turning-cold chest to see blood drip in to her eyes to replace the green and white; I'm not scared of her. She isn't killing me. She's only standing there, staring blankly through my soul._

_The room cracks with black ice. It spirals around behind a full body mirror I hadn't noticed 'til now. I walk towards it cautiously. Once I step in front of the glass, the reflection is worse than Anna. Worse than demon Irene. Worse than Hans leaving me. Worse than death. _

_It's me. Smeared in blood. Dressed in black ice extending from the floor, mixed with dreaded blue. Hair black, pinned up. Hands stained red. _

_Behind my reflection are bodies. But I don't think of the word 'bodies' when I see it. I think: my dad. My mom. Irene. Anna. Lizbeth. Hans… He swims in his own blood, skewered by a bed of ice stalagmites. They all are, except for Lizbeth, whose stomach has exploded out. A baby cries in the distance. _

_There's no more air. I want to scream but can't. Talk. Cry. Punch. Kick. Run. Something is covering my…_

…_face!_

The firm pillow smothers me. My eyes shoot open and I push myself up into Hans' room. It's pitch dark, apart from the lunar illuminance from the window. Blankets askew around me, I peel them off and stand beside the bed, dizzy. The place where my face was has a wet spot; my eyes leak upon seeing this. I wipe my face and check the small clock on the bureau. The little hand is past the tenth stub and the big one is obscured by the lunar glare. Hans is absent, but this is still his room.

Wearily, I stumble to the door and open it up. Everything is quiet in the hall; even the crickets are taciturn. The silence pierces my ears so I sigh to push the needle away. I head down, lost and dazed in the dark. The deeper I go, the further I am into the abyss from which I may never return.

After I reach the bottom of the stairs, Hans' silhouette dances on the floor of the family room across the hall. I walk in to see him surveying the fire and choosing through the books on the mantel. His expression is so serious, almost distant and unrecognizable in the dim light. "What's got you up?" I murmur, now aware of the warmth of the fireplace.

"Thoughts," he utters, filled with fatigue, keeping his profile to me.

"Like?" I step forward. He looks kind of peaceful. Hell freezes before he begins to answer me.

"It doesn't matter." He shrugs like whatever these sleep-taking thoughts are, they aren't important enough to talk about. I swallow hard, but let it go. The crackling fire echoes faintly around the room. Hans picks up a thick collection of pages off the shelf and opens it to the bookmark. The gold letters on the spine read '_Pride and Prejudice'. _I watch the glow move in their shine.

I decide to break the silence with a pounding thought, "Hans, can we go outside?"

"Why?" When he looks up, I see the bags under his eyes.

"I want to talk to you."

"We can't talk in here?"

"No. Hans please just trust me." He hesitates a moment, but lets go of his air and closes the book. I turn and lead us to the door.

Once we finally reach the night grass and moonlight, Hans inquires "What did you want to say?"

I inhale and smile, "Everything…"


	13. Fire n Ice

"Ooh Irene! What should I wear?" Anna's shout is muffled through the door. I've taken the liberty to stroll around the halls while Miss Perfect is busy getting ready. It's her _BiRtHdDy ToDaY _so I can't be anywhere near her except for tonight. This is the first one of our birthdays without mom and dad - she won't realize that until later at the party when the absence hits her. Irene is going to try to host a gathering out in the courtyard. Particularly, I couldn't give less of a shit.

Every year I'm locked in my room anyways, always "not feeling well" or "not ready yet but hold on" or whatever excuse dad or mom came up with that year. This year Irene wants me to help, but I can't add knives to any of it, which kind of bums me out.

The lady of the hour and Irene emerge from the dressing room, so I scurry further down the hall around the corner. Out of my peripheral vision, Anna is in a teal-ish dress dipped in accents of yellow, I think. Shit, I'm supposed to be outside decorating. I grab a roll of streamers off the table behind me, thankfully left there by Irene earlier when called to Anna's aid. The two girls talk all the way down the stairs while I go out my favorite way: the tower.

The sun beats down on the cement when I get to the top. A pompous ass roams freely about the courtyard and then is hidden behind the roof. I crawl over the railing, slide down the shingles and ponder what I'll create to get to the grass today. Hmmm… my hand twists around over the edge of the building to send a spiral of slippery ice descending from where I stand. Once it reaches ground, I sit on the outer side of my creation and let go of the roof. The wind blows through my hair. This is one of the few times I get to enjoy myself.

I spin and spin and spin until I get to the bottom and bounce off. I've mastered the transportation and architectural side of my magic. I think once I met Hans months ago, he made me feel like my powers weren't dark. Weren't to be feared. Or maybe they are and I'm just kidding myself. The problem is, no matter how I see it, I still haven't been able to melt anything yet. Thankfully, the summer heat helps with that.

Around the side of the castle reveals Sir Bjorn, strutting from box to box of decorations and ribbons that are _so _beneath him. My flats click a little too loudly against the pavement and he looks up. "Well, hello there, your highness, how is the cake doing?" he hums condescendingly. Irene opens the front doors several yards away as he talks.

"Fine, Chef Soulie said it might take a bit depending on the frosting or something like that." I've also mastered lying. I originally went inside according to orders from this asshole to check on the birthday pastry, but I couldn't care less about his "authority".

"Good. Well do you think you can put up the streamers?" He glances down at my pathetically small hands for a nanosecond - I look for longer.

"Yes." Like a cadet.

"Okay, ask Irene where she wants them. I have some things to attend to and then I'll have to be going for a short while." He tells all this to anything but me: the ground, the decoration boxes, the tables, the clouds. I nod and head towards my nanny, who is taking a handoff from a faceless someone of a heavy box storing silverware and some wine glasses.

"Hey hun, oh good you have the streamers," she grunts a couple times while carrying the bus and two elephants over to one of the undressed tables. "So the guys just set up this watchyacallit here," Irene flails her arms up and around in loops in lack of a better title for this beam structure drawing a square around-above the lot of tables. "It would be nice to string them across each way," - her hands wave back and forth from the front to back, then again side to side - "and maybe I can get some more colors. There's a ladder over there."

"Sure," like a less enthusiastic cadet. She heads back inside. I look at the paper ribbons in my hand. I have no fucking idea how I'm supposed to do all of this myself. As I stare up at my newest enemy, a courier trots in under the soon-to-be canopy towards me.

"I have messages for the royal family," the man announces. He is roughly my age, dark skin and brown eyes that fascinatingly match the hue of his skin tone. He hands a bundle of envelopes to our steward, whose name always forgets me.

"Thank you," the nameless sweater-vest and tie says, takes the papers and untucks the string around it. The courier leaves and as the steward begins to, he turns to me and hands me one of the envelopes. "For you, Miss Elsa." He's always been disgusted by me. More so now that father isn't here to vouch for my mistakes.

"Thanks." He looks me over a moment while I ignore him. The paper has coursive on the back, and I think I can make out 'Hans' and 'Southern Isles'; the date is from a couple weeks ago. Excitedly, I tear it open and pull out a tri-fold letter. The font isn't as much a struggle to read:

_Dear Elsa, _

_I've been thinking about what you told me. I think this arrangement will_

_work well - I gladly accept. We should meet again, and I understand your sister's birthday is coming up. Look for me there and we can discuss this further during my stay. Maybe we can visit your pier this time. _

_I miss you, Elsa. _

_Warm regards, _

_Hans of the Southern Isles _

His signature is a lot more swirly and squiggly than the rest of his writing. The thumping muscle in my chest freezes solid at the jumble of letters spelling 'l-o-o-k-f-o-r-m-e-t-h-e-r-e'. It's been over nine months since I've seen him. Every day feels longer. All our memories are more distant, but not fading. Never fading. Oh so vibrant. Sometimes they are the only things I can think of. They are the only things keeping me up right. _He's going to be here._ _Hans._

I bound to the ladder and prance it over to a corner of the square. Dammit, I stub my toe on the way up. Shit, that hurts. Get over it, okay. I quickly wrap the end of the yellow streamer around the beam a couple times, then run it over to the other side. And repeat. One by one I go until I reach the end, when Irene has brought out some other colors. She catches me humming to myself and I tell her it's nothing. Happiness is not a me thing. I snag a green color from the pile and criss-cross it with the yellow. Eventually, after hours, it makes a nice pattern above where the guests will sit. I push the ladder back where it was and stand back to admire my work. Some of the guys are hanging little lanterns along the beams. The glow reminds me it's nearing dusk.

Anna's been inside all day, obeying the order to avoid seeing the decorations and set up at all costs. Irene, putting up the last of the lights, starts talking to me, "The party is starting soon. Don't you wanna get ready?"

What? "_What?"_ Air is lodged in my throat.

"I laid out a nice dress for you and some matching _gloves._" When she says gloves, I look around at the streamers, not one string is white. The still vibrant colors amazes me.

I wasn't really expecting to be attending the party - I was barely expecting there to be THIS much of a party at all. I would've been lucky to even catch a glimpse of the excitement from my bedroom window. Hans will be here soon.

As I realize this, I bolt into the castle and up to my room, where a dress sprawls across my bed next to the same tan gloves I had in the Southern Isles. The dress, however, is lost somewhere in my subconscious. I'm sure I've seen it before. It touches the place inside me I reserved for mom. It's somewhere off limits, even from me. Forever to be left alone, never thought about. But the feeling is still there.

Echoes of conversation waft up through the cracked open window, accompanied by chocolate fondu and assorted meat platters and pies. It takes on a glow.

The dress feels flowy and gentle. These gloves are actually more like pantihose for my arms. I'm glad Irene accounted for the outfit and length of the sleeves this time. Looking down, this pattern feels ever more familiar. A memory from a dream.

Downstairs, outside. Five minutes without an accident. Inhale, exhale, don't look weird. Stop talking to yourself. Now. Shut your goddamn mouth. I awkwardly ring my hands, peeking over a tall, but thin, crowd in search of Hans. I think his hair would have blinded me by now if he was here. Or his eyes. There aren't a lot of people here yet, and most of the ones already here are from Arendelle. The guest book lays astrew on an accent table off to the side. Irene invited everybody and their third cousin. Several large kingdoms including some high officials from England. It's obvious she pities Anna, more so than me.

Time runs by like an easily startled deer, so fast it frightens me to see the stars are already so bright. I've spent who knows how many centuries looking for Hans. Every dark head of hair is him. Every strong jawline and cleft chin. Every soft eye. He is a scattered jigsaw puzzle laid out across the courtyard, but he is no where to be found. More and more Not-Hans' flood through the gates, making small talk that makes my ears bleed.

My pupils get tired of dilating from light, dark, not him, yes him, no him, Irene, lanterns, guests, black sky, gates, hands. I fall back in a chair and rest my head on my shoulders. There's a tear in the streamer above me; I stare at it, willing it to sew itself back together. I check for my friend once more before my eyelids shut out the people and Anna and voices. Parties make me tired. I wonder if Hans would be tired too. He seems like the type to escape first chance he got. No one would miss him either.

It's a long while before I notice my chair tipping back. I've been known to nurture habit occasionally - every tutor I've had has scolded me for it. As I look to check behind me, I realize my feet have left the ground. I'm holding my breath in a tipping equilibrium. Shit _fuck "Woah!-" _I gasp. I haven't hit the floor yet. Above me is an arm attached to a grinning Hans.

"Glad I caught you," he puns, pulling me back up, "Haven't you ever been taught not to tip your chair back?" His smile is contagious.

"Yes, but I'm not in the mood for etiquette." I quickly rise and brush off my dress.

"I like your hair in a bun." My cheeks are hot. He's here finally!

"Thanks, I like it too. That's why I did it." He rolls his eyes and escorts me over to the gates. I'm wary of Irene seeing us sneak away. She doesn't. The gates are still open. We find ourselves strolling down the bridge toward downtown Arendelle. The snow-capped mountains are a perfect backdrop contrasting with the scent of ocean breeze. Citizen homes aglow while uninvited guests eat dinner - there aren't many.

Once we are far enough away from the excitement, Hans decides it's safe to say, "I've been thinking about what you told me, and you must have gotten my letter…"

I say nothing.

"Don't get me wrong, I want to do it," he reassures, I exhale, "I'm just wondering why. Anna doesn't seem as awful as you make her out to be." He realizes by my expression that he has said something that has haunted me for centuries; has dripped from too many lips; has flooded me with all five stages of grief, but stuck at Anger. Always questioning my emotions. It stings, and I keep my eyes on the cracks in the tiles we pass. I ponder smacking him upside his head. "Nevermind, I don't need to know." There is sincerity in his voice, I relax.

"Because of this..," my hands raise, balling into fists, a light mist secretes from them, "the board might give her something that belongs to me."

"What is it?"

Sir Bjorn and Anna in the garden comes to mind, I shoo it away, "Doesn't matter. I just need you to do your part."

"Well what _is_ my part?"

We find a bench that overlooks the docks, hidden by buildings and shrubs. I watch ripples bounce from boats. "My sister, she has a big heart, and god bless her, she'll always follow it blindly. This is something I'd like to exploit. _You_ will exploit. Hunt it down and remind her how dangerous it can be."

"Okay, but it doesn't seem like it helps you much getting back whatever you're trying to."

"Trust me, it does." The trolls prophecy talks about a leader of royalty bequeathed with a curse of snow and ice. Not many of the board members know about me, but they all sure as hell know about the prophecy. It never proposed the curse was to be the downfall of the kingdom, it was only implied. It's an ending left unwritten, and everyone keeps trying to predict what it will be - usually siding that it will only cause destruction - and therefore, prepare for the blows. I think the trolls wanted to keep it that way.

I want to drive Anna to suicide. Push her so far that her chest aches. I want her heart to be so cold, I won't even have to freeze it myself. It will be crushed, will crush, crash, burn. Mangling it enough that she'll beg to end her life. I'll love the shade of maroon left on the floor - I'll paint my chamber walls with it.

I must look so fiery and distant because Hans has his hand on my shoulder and asks, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I utter, pulling my eyes away from the moonlit ocean, forcing them to blink. He watches me slowly return. "It will work."

"I'll do what I can, Elsa." My name on his lips sends shivers down my spine, sending each vertebrae into shock.

"You will _succeed,"_ I shoot him a look that ignites flames in his eyes. Without really noticing it, I caress his face and kiss his cheek, barely getting his jaw in my mouth. I'm standing before I meet his gaze again - as dazed and aroused as it is. He follows me down to the sand, where I kick off my flats and dip my toe in the water. I let the step freeze on the surface, glowing as it thickens. Hans watches as I take another step, then another, then I'm running, then I'm skating, I'm flying. I cut through waves that freeze at my will, gliding while wind rushes past me.

He hops onto the ice, exonerating his jacket and gloves, running fingers through his hair. I skate back over to him and hold onto his shoulders. In the silence, there is still music from the party. "I'll lead," he looks at me.

I shake my head, "No - I will." I pull him back with me, turning him gracefully across the ice. When new liquid patches emerge, I tap them again. It's a dance that draws roses across waves. To him, I must look like this is nothing to me. To be honest, this is the first time I've ever done anything like this.

There are legends of sirens, in the middle of the ocean, hungry for sailors. They lure them into the water with their songs and beauty, and swallow them whole once in their reach. Tonight, I lure Hans farther and farther out around the docks. I keep him in front of me, skating backwards for the most part, knowing the curse will be there behind me. Eventually, the cove is entirely frozen. Some of the guests' ships even are bottomed with sheets of frost. But I couldn't care less. This is our time.

The birthday is winding down. Everyone has begun eating and the sight of the food reminds me how unbelievably famished I am. Irene is back to at the head table, engaged in a performance given by the Arendelle theatre group. Hans and I make way to the seats next to Irene and Anna - both barely notice. At the end of the skit, the audience applauds and settles, stopping to nibble at dinner again. Hans eyes Anna and then me and gives me a look asking if it's time. I look at my sister and sigh blissfully, then nod.

He raises from the chair and walks over to her, "I'd like to formally introduce myself, your highness, and wish you a spectacular birthday. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," he bows politely.

"Hey, I think I remember you from our trip down there!" Anna squeaks excitedly, "Thank you, Hans. I'm Princess Anna of Arende- Uhm, well obviously you would know me- not to sound conceited or anything! I don't mean it like that! I just… uhm… ohh." She blushes nervously and then straightens herself out, "Sorry, thank you." Hans courteously kisses her hand and walks back over to his seat next to me. He slyly runs a hand over my leg under the table. I grin at him and he does back. The next One Act play is about two lovers seeking revenge on a treacherous witch.


	14. Give Me The Strength

"Thank you all very much for coming!" my sister announces as guests flock to the gates gaily. I'm beside her as ordered, waving with her like I was present for the event. She still has so much energy at midnight, which doesn't relieve my aggravation. To be honest, she makes me look bad. I slide away from her.

And yet, I still want to watch her from the corner of my eye. She's radiant; it's blinding. Her skin glows as much as her hair shines. I envy and love her at the same time. I have a headache.

The last guest has departed and the gates are squeaking shut. I'm lost in thought until the old wood slamming together jolts me.

"I've had a wonderful time but I must be going," Prince Hans tells Irene and Anna, "I hadn't expected the party to go so late, sailing back might be a problem." They've been making cheap small talk since he introduced himself to my sibling.

"Oh but it's so late, hun. Why don't you stay in one of our guest rooms for the night?" Irene pats his arm.

"I couldn't, I would hate to intrude."

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Anna chimes in, "You had invited us into your home."

"Let us return the favor," Irene seconds.

"If you insist." Hans lets them lead him towards the door as I follow close behind. Irene goes on to ask him about homelife and party thoughts and politics, and of course both women are swooned with his charm. I can't blame them, so was I.

The night proceeds with the prince, princess, and nursemaid make the biggest of small talk in the parlor. I observe from afar, looking over occasionally if beckoned but keep my eyes on the fireplace until the grandfather clock startles all of us as it hits the witching hour. The chime halts all conversation, then Hans stands and shakes hands with the two women with their undergarments around their ankles. "Oh I best be off to bed, as well as you lovely women." He is the most hardcore flirt I've ever seen.

"Of course, I'll show you to your room," Irene says, taking her time to walk into the hallway. I begin to stand as Hans bids farewell to Anna.

"Happy birthday again, your highness. Sleep very well and goodnight," he kisses her hand and she blushes.

"Thank you, Prince Hans, to you as well." She attempts to curtsy, though she almost twists her ankle in the process. He smiles and turns to me.

"And to you as well, Princess Elsa," his grin leaks when his back is turned, "I hope you have pleasant dreams." He comes over to kiss my hand as well.

"Goodnight and please sleep well," I tell him. Irene leads all of us up to the bedrooms. Anna goes to hers. Hans goes to his. I stand in mine, waiting for Irene to go to hers. When I hear her door close, mine opens. I sneak into the guest room to find Hans undressing. His chiseled abdominals flex while he pulls his shirt off. He hears the door close but acts as if I'm not here. I know this because he isn't surprised to feel my hands rubbing his shoulders, then inching down to his chest. "You did great," I whisper to his neck, gently giving it a kiss. As I come up, I notice how soft his hair looks and suspend the massage to feel it.

"Thanks, your majesty," he smirks in the dark.

"You could be a snake charmer, you're so charismatic." I sit on the bed and watch him climb over me. He talks while lowering himself unto me and nuzzling my neck warmly.

"You overestimate me."

"No need for modesty. A minute longer and they would have hopped in your trousers."

"I can smell them from here." We kiss again, his lips are so warm on mine.

After a while of not talking, I break the silence, "I've missed you."

He looks down at me like he's discovered diamonds, "I've missed you too." He pecks my forehead slowly and leans his against it. "It's late, let's get to bed," he adds while I yawn. We kiss once more then I'm out the door before he knows I'm off the bed.

"I had no idea you were going to be able to make it last night!" Anna tells Hans across the table. I took the chair next to him so she got the next best thing. As they talk, I watch the sunrise make the trees glow. The sky couldn't be bluer; the clouds couldn't be softer. In my almost boredom, I've drawn small hearts on the table with my fingers, safely tucked inside my gloves.

"I enjoy your company, your highness."

She smiles shyly, "Thank you, I enjoy yours too. But you don't have to be so formal, I'm just Anna."

"It's only polite to address the hosting monarchs as superiorities." He gives her a look that is more sincere. She can't look away. I watch Irene who is watching them, like they are the one true pairing, then she looks over to watch me watch her watch them. Anna and Hans eventually move back in their seats, noticing the eyes on them. Hans nudges me under the table and I nudge back. I think nudging is our unofficial secret code.

We finish breakfast and soon Hans invites my sister out for a stroll. It doesn't take as much convincing from Irene to let her leave compared to me, for obvious reasons. So they left and I peered out the door as Anna's pigtails bounced with each step, her dress twirling and eyes glinting in the morning sun. Just on the other side of the gates, they interlock arms.

They were gone for almost an hour on their walk, and Hans is supposed to leave soon. I inform Irene of my concern but her only reply is, "Oh let them have a little fun, together. This is good for Anna, she needs someone like that." She goes back to scrubbing the banister.

It sort of stings that her pity is placed more heavily with Anna than me. I feel sick. I trudge away, my feet are weighed down with anchors. "What's the matter?" her stern voice asks my back. When did she lose the warmth?

"What?" I turn, shoving tears in my back pocket, knowing I look like the girl who cries at nothing.

"What's the problem?" She puts down her damp rag and comes down the stairs to me, folding her arms almost impatiently.

I examine her stance and immediately recoil. She's not the person I thought was my friend. "Nothing."

"Spit it out."

"No." We're a foot away from each other, holding our stand-off in the middle of the foyer. "Who are you?" I mutter finally.

"I'm someone who's trying to take care of one of the two children I was entrusted with. Now answer my question!"

"Why? No matter what I tell you, what the hell is going to change about it?! What the fuck does it matter what I tell you!"

"Elsa!"

"Irene!" We echo around the tall ceilings for a long while until it dies into silence. I stare at her wanting to scream. I duck my head away to collect my pieces before I fall apart. Then once they're glued together loosely, I ask her, "Do you even care about me anymore?"

There is too long a silence. Irene is not one to lie unless it's extremely important. I watch her lip quiver as she moves in to hug me; I jerk away. "Answer my question."

She looks around the room, thinking of what to say. I'm drowning waiting for an answer. After a lifetime and another century, she says, "I do care. But the rest of us have to move on with our lives... with or without you."

I bite my lip, not even attempting to hide the tears, "So that's it? You'll just leave me behind to move yourselves along."

"Anna is the only one who has a chance of making a life for us, and Arendelle. We can't sacrifice that for a depressed heiress who can and will destroy everything in her path." Her words have been boiling inside her for ages now. I can feel it in her breath. I thought she was the only person who understood, but now I see. She is the flame to melt the ice "We just can't."

That has been one of the last times I've seen Irene. I've avoided her at all costs. When Hans came back with Anna, I pulled him aside and told him I'd miss him and that I couldn't go to see him off at the docks. After dodging his questions for half an hour, he understood and was off. I haven't seen him in five months now. And hell have they been long.

It's Irene's responsibility to look after me, so she can't avoid seeing me. However she has avoided talking to me for weeks at a time. Anna gave up trying to talk to me. I sit in my room and read. Every few days I start a new book and eventually I run out and have to ask a staff member to get more from downstairs. I don't leave me room. I locked my door and sometimes I think about tossing the key out the window.

My nursemaid has "forgotten" to feed me from time to time. I occasionally get drowsy from starvation or dehydration. But in the morning, my wake up call picks the lock and gives me a piece of toast or shares his breakfast. He's started sneaking extra sausages or apples when he does the rounds. Without him, I would have died in the cold of my room.

There was one day I went further than the doorframe, and that was when mail call had an envelope addressed to me. I slipped carefully down the stairs to where my sister and Irene were walking off in different directions, packages and envelopes in hand. I held my breath as the older one passed me, but she wouldn't even look at me. Anna glanced up the stairs and briefly at me, then furrowed her brows and walked away. The courier handed me a sealed note, missing the return address. She looked at me with pity in her eyes, then turned to leave.

Once I was locked away again, I opened the note. The date next to the familiar cursive was Dec. 9th, and then it read:

_Dear Elsa, _

_I think my last visit went well with your sister. I think everything is going smoothly. My family is planning to attend Arendelle's Christmas Banquet, and I have weaseled my father into letting me go this year! So I guess this letter serves as my RSVP. Oh all the more time to spend with the future queen of Arendelle and Anna, I can't wait.  
Meet me in the garden by 9:30 Christmas Eve. I love you, Elsa._

_~Hans _

I feel the bowl of butterflies I had for breakfast hit my stomach, fluttering around and tickling my inner organs pink. I snatch a pin from the desk drawer and post the letter next to the others on my wall. Hans rarely gets a chance to send mail, so my collection is scarce. However, each paper fuels my drive; they enhance my stamina ten-fold. I've read the four notes over and over again, the oldest ones I have committed to memory. Being so isolated has given me a chance to focus on something outside of the curse, yet all the more time to watch it grow stronger without control, and with it coming more isolation.

The evening has progressed slowly since the mail has arrived. It's been roughly ten hours since I've eaten this morning's leftover brunch. I've usually spent some of that time wondering how Irene had hijacked the kitchen to make sure Princess Elsa of Arendelle would be forced to beg for scraps and eat like a vagabond.

It's a long train of thought I lose myself in before I realize my foot is tapping to a far off music source. Pings of ice bounce on the floor beneath my chair. I drag myself to the window to see Irene in the courtyard with some other dark skinned people and Anna, singing. One of them is playing a fast-pace violin and others are beating some drums. It must be Irene's birthday again. I look at the calendar to where I've previously circled and then scribbled out December 19th and huff.

Every year on her birthday, she invites her family to the castle, always getting permission from my parents of course, to celebrate. They always bring exotic food I could never get any other time of the year, and they love playing music I could never hear unless uncle Zeb and Irene's mother Ysolda had brought instruments. Sometimes, Irene would sneak me out later in the night, with my boots and wool hat at the ready, so I could join the party. I couldn't dream of her doing so now.

For a while, I participate from my window, getting bits and pieces from the lyrics, but it didn't matter anyways. I had heard this one several times. Many of the verses I was already familiar with. It's the one about a siren falling in love with a sailor she meets on one of his voyages. I crack open the window, letting the strumming and booming fill the air; the life and the love.

As the wind creaks the glass further open during a break in between songs, I hold my breath when Irene looks up at my window. I refuse to move a muscle, not daring to blink, as I know she could see it. I wait an eternity before attempting to peek down again, finding, though, that she has moved on from me. Soon, music starts up, though I hang my head on my knees, letting a ice cold tear run down the bridge of my nose into my lap. The next song is one of my favorite song. It's called Mwanga, it's a traditional african song about being happy and seeing the silver-lining. Irene told me it was written by an african taoist, but I never really knew what a taoist was until years later. But she'd always pull me downstairs before they played this song so we could dance to it together.

After several minutes, I quickly shut the window. _Why did you have to say those things to her?!_ I scream internally, _Why are you so idiotic! _ Another tear hits the floor, another icicle hits the door. I wipe my cheek, aggressively sending another blow to my canopy. The post cracks and the curtains sway. My oil lamp lies in pieces on the floor.

I throw more snow around the room, a blizzard ensues soon after; the fifth one this week. There's a blast that deflects off of my mirror and hits me in the stomach. It wakes up a feeling I haven't felt in a long time. This utter despair inside me; a cocktail of rage and depression and hopelessness. I realize that before, there were ways out of my messes, but here I'm being pulled underground with nothing to hold on to. Hans is my last string of hope, though even he can't save me from everything.

For an hour, I watch the breaking dawn climb over the mountain tops. The sky, an orange-pink blur. I've decided I refuse to live like this anymore. I am a queen who has forgotten her strength; an alpha-female tiger who has discredited her teeth.

I wait patiently while there is the usual hustle about the hall. Once I account for some staff, Irene and my sister, I count the seconds on the clock for fifteen minutes. When the nimble hand strikes the twelve, I bolt for the door, carefully unlocking it as to keep quiet.

I survive the first steps out into the hallway. Some maids round the corner behind me; I hear them stop shortly after, pausing any chitter chatter. They stay silent for the duration of my regel stroll to the staircase. My head held above everyone: above those maids, above the kingdom, above Anna and Hans and Irene, above the clouds. I am above everything.

Maintaining a straight back, as if balancing a book on my head, I walk tall, a lion among sheep. Concerned glances and low gasps follow me to the dining room, where a sister's laugh echoes. My pace stays ever slow, letting the others appreciate my presence. I take it in until I reach the end of this corridor, refusing to allow any hesitation.

The door opens a little too soon for my comfort, but I don't let it show. The guards had pushed them before I could - a new touch I hadn't noticed Irene had added. Anna and Irene sit at the end of the table across from each other, as per the usual arrangement. My sister notices me first, but only after I've cleared half the trek. The nursemaid keeps talking, ignoring the young girls fearful silence. I approach without a glance in their direction.

I reach my father's old kingly seat, pull it out and take my place. A nervous waiter pushes in my throne, then backs away. Irene has halted her words to glare at me. I can hear the gears clicking away in her, looking for anything to say, though all she manages is "Hello, your highness," in a monotone way. I say nothing in return. After a long while answerless, Irene turns to Anna and continues her story.

The same waiter returns to take my order. I give him mine with a booming voice, interrupting their conversation. Once he leaves, they continue. It's a short, awkward time before the chef comes out with two other kitchen boys to serve our meals. A plate is sat in front of Irene, which I glare at and call the chef to my side. "Now, Chef Soulie," - I read off the monogram - "Why were you hired to work in the castle of Arendelle?" I hum, an eery pleasantry in my tone.

"Your highness?" he querries.

"Why were you hired to work in the castle of Arendelle?" The two women flanking the head of the table burn holes into me, their eyes flicking from me to each other and back again.

"To lend my talent to serving meals for the royal family, your highness."

"Would you say you do your job well?"

"Why, yes, madame. I would"

"I would agree, except you have made one tiny mistake."

"A mistake? Your majesty-"

"Do not fret, Chef, it was a simple mistake, I am not angered. You see this plate here to my right," - I gesture to the food in front of Irene, she glares at me sternly, "it is too far away from my other one. How am I expected to eat the food from it if it's a mile away?"

"Your highness, I-"

"It serves no purpose at that place mat, and it's not going to be eaten by anyone else but me, nobody is sitting there. I wish for it to be moved closer next time, that is all." Before I finish the word 'all', Irene slams her plate on my place mat, clanking loudly against my other one, and storms off. "Thank you," I tell the chef. He nods and retreats to the kitchen. My sister stares at me while I eat. Eventually she continues on her food. Some time goes by silently until "Hi, sister," I greet her.

She stops chewing and drops her fork nervously in her lap, "Hi, me?" Anna scurries to get her utensil then straightens herself up. She looks at me with big eyes while I wait for her to settle.

"Yes, hello you," I keep all of my patience on the outside, with very little to spare on the inside. I stuff my face with Irene's breakfast.

"Uhm..," she tucks her hair behind her ear, "It's nice to see you out of your room."

"It would seem I was hungry enough to leave it," I say in between bites, "Five months is a long time without a proper meal, you know."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see pity and ginger braids, "Right," and there is a sort of empathy in her tone. I plow through my first plate and push it aside, pulling my second closer. Anna pokes at her eggs and asks shyly, "I'm assuming you and Irene aren't on good terms, right now."

"Yes, she's made her point clear."

"Which was?"

I take a moment to think of an appropriate reply to this little freckled girl, "She wants me to take care of a matter that is out of my power to manage."

"Well that's not right. She must understand that you can't do everything on your own."

"Apparently, she thinks otherwise."

"There must just be a miscommunication or something, I could talk to her if you want." She's still so eager to be on my side, I'm a little taken back.

"Anna, it's our business. Stay out of it."

She sighs, "Okay, Elsa." The way she says my name makes a tiny jump in my chest; I dismiss it.

More scraping and clanking of forks until I attempt to change the atmosphere, "Have you talked to Sir Bjorn lately?" I haven't forgotten about their little meetings, though I haven't been able to keep tabs on them for a while now, obviously.

She tenses oddly when I say this, but I don't bother to investigate that further. "Oh… I guess you wouldn't have known..," she says solemnly, "He died about three months ago."

"From what?"

"They don't know. He had battled an addiction to morphine some years ago, but other than that, they can't imagine." Hmm, I'm not sure how to feel about this. We stay wordless a minute.

I think of all the time I saw them together. The last time I could remember, they were out in the courtyard. Anna was sitting on his lap by the fountain. They seemed so devilishly close. "I almost feel I should apologize to you for his death."

"W-why?" She's stopped eating since the conversation started.

"You two seemed close from what I could tell."

"We talked business. Irene had, uhm," - she clears her throat and pushes her hair behind her ear again - "wanted me to get more involved with politics."

"I see." Later they had strolled out in the garden, wading through the bright orange and red leaves. His hand had been around her back, and before they were completely out of sight, I watched it inch down below her waist.

I came down to breakfast the next morning. Naturally, I ignored Irene entirely, so she didn't stay for long this time either. I exchanged few words with Anna, as she easily irritates me. Yesterday, I was in a good mood. Today, she told me I was looking rather skinny. After glaring at her much too long, she realized the reason why and continued eating in taciturn.

As I go about my day, thinking about ways to interrupt Irene's routine besides breakfast, I notice that there are four more days until the Christmas Banquet. This gives me more opportunity to screw with Irene and Anna. I settle comfortably in knowing this.

Later, I find Irene and some other maids decorating the ballroom. Although this damaged my chances of ice skating today - none of the staff would let me leave the building to do so, as ordered - I did get to freeze Irene's flats to the floor while she fixed some chairs. She ended up having to take off her shoes and going to find someone to chisel them off the floor. While she was gone, I poured some hot water around them and toweled them off so by the time they came back, they were just sitting there. The man she had dragged in looked at her oddly then went back to work. She caught sight of me as I handed a damp hand towel to a maid and walked back to my room. Today was a good day.


End file.
